


What it Means to be a Family

by beanboredom



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Child Connor, Connor feels pain, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kid Fic, Medical Experimentation, Medical Trauma, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump, no beta we die like men, will eventually catch up to canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 83,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanboredom/pseuds/beanboredom
Summary: After being deemed defective, Connor, a yk800 Android is left for dead in the junkyard. He escapes and is eventually found by soft hearted Hank.Now the healing begins.





	1. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank finds an android.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Hank refers to Connor as "it"

It has been a drearily long day. Hank spent two hours at a crime scene, then even more time questioning witnesses. By the time he finally is done, it is near to eleven pm.

To be completely honest, Hank is over this homicide case. He has seen them all, this is just another one. It becomes frustrating to be witness to so many horrid crimes. All they do is suck the life out of him and make him dislike people more. Tonight, all he wants is to pick up a cheap pizza and head on home to Sumo. Down a few drinks. Pass out. Tomorrow is Saturday, so unless there is some emergency he shouldn't have to wake up anytime prior to noon.

Hank exhales as he pulls on his winter coat. It's just becoming spring, but he hasn't been ready to give it up for the season just yet. His eyes wander to the windows where he can peer out into the aphotic night. Drizzling showers are pouring readily from the sky, and a crack of thunder can be heard. Fuckin great weather. Way to lift the mood.

Taking one last gaze around the place, Hank sighs good riddance and walks out. He is immediately pelted with the downpour, which is now steadily sinking into his heavy jacket the longer he stands. Hank hurriedly ambles towards his car, an old model he has to drive himself. _Thank god_ , he thinks as he manually unlocks the door and climbs in. Another sigh is released from the pits of his lungs and he whirs up the ignition. Should’ve parked in the parking garage.

Considering his pizza options (a difficult choice, considering there aren’t that many open late at night), Hank begins to rear out of the DPD parking lot when a small scream sounds from the back of his car. _Shit._ His heart drops in his chest as he reaches for the door and quickly exits. Concern is settling in deep, and even deeper once he reaches the back of his vehicle.

A small child is huddled against the ground. Their dark blue sweatshirt is clinging to their tiny frame, and small whimpers can be heard.

Crouching down next to the child, Hank tries his hardest to speak gently, "Hey, uh kid, are you okay? Did I- did my car hit you?"

At the sound of his voice, the kid sits upright. The whimpers immediately halt. Now that Hank can view their face, he notices he’s a boy. His dark brown hair is sticking to his face, and appears unkempt. His eyes match his hair and his face is solemn, except for a tinge of fear. No response is uttered to Hank's questions.

"My name is- uh, Hank. Could ya tell me your name?" Hank coaxes, feeling awkward and out of place.

The kid mumbles something, expression remaining almost stoic.

"Ah- I'm sorry, I couldn't really hear you."

"Connor. My Name is Connor." The child’s voice betrays no emotion but is somewhat shaken up. 

"Nice to meet you Connor. Now can you tell me if you're alright?"

Connor nods yes, avoiding Hank's gaze. The small child turns his head to Hank's right, and his blood runs cold. A pulsing, circular yellow LED is ingrained into the side of his (it's??) head. _Fuuuuck,_ Hank thinks to himself. _This kid's an android._

Alright. Well. This is a waste of time. It’s a machine. Not a kid. Hank should just go home and take comfort in Sumo.

However despite knowing it's a machine, Hank cannot help but think of it as a real child. Freezing, wet, and alone. In Detroit, of all places. His goddamn empathy is making him second guess himself, tricking him. _This isn't an actual kid. I can just drop it off at Cyberlife. Or better yet, leave it here and forget about it. It's a machine after all._

But he knows he's not gonna do that. This kid looks, what, like a 6 or 7 year old? He can take it to Cyberlife tomorrow. Guess pizza is canceled tonight. _Stupid softy._

"Would you like me to get out of your way so you can leave?" The android asks quietly as it looks at the ground. It is still huddled with it's knees to its chest.

That is Hank's breaking point. He would have too much guilt if he just left it here, despite the fact that it's not alive. It sure sounds like a real kid and it awakens a pain in his chest. Just for tonight.

"No, uh, look- do you have nowhere else to go?" Hank manages to get out without cringing at his bluntness, "I mean, I see you're an android, so can you like, not make it to your owner or whatever tonight?"

"I don't have an owner.” It states blankly.

Oh. He should have been able to tell that. Stupid. “Well, why don't you get in my car. I'll figure something out." He sounds like a damn creep. Ugh.

"Connor" remains unmoving, LED still a vibrant yellow. However, it slowly looks up into Hank's eyes. _Shit_ Hank inwardly groans _this thing looks so pitiful._

"Look, I'm tired and wanna go home. You're free to tag along if you want, but I gotta get home to my dog."

The thing's eyes seem to brighten. "A dog?" It questions, curiosity peeking through its face.

"Uh, yeah my dog Sumo."

"I like dogs." It speaks softly, almost to itself. That appears to be what wins the android over since it pushes itself up and brushes off it's legs.

"Alright. Great. Let's get in before I become literal mold." Hank motions for it to enter the car and he once again gets into the front seat. "Connor" has settled in the back seat, squishing itself as close to the window as can be.

With that, Hank revved his engine and exited the parking lot, the need for sleep making his eyelids heavy. With no one out and about, he drove above the speed limit to get home. Those drone things can't stop him.

The ride is loaded with a heavy silence. The only noise is the sound of rain pattering against the roof of the car, and the occasional crash of thunder. Every few minutes, Hank will glance back at the mini android, then return his eyes to the road upon seeing it unmoved.

Reaching home’s a relief, and Hank quickly leaves his car and stumbles towards his front door. Once he reaches it, he looks back to make sure "Connor" is following suite. Sure enough, it is, and Hank unlocks his house and enters.

At once, Sumo is leaping towards Hank and the android.

"C'mere Sumo! Who's a good boy? I missed you Sumo! C'mere good boy!" Hank pats his knees and calls out to Sumo. But the dog wanders past Hank and begins sniffing "Connor". Okay. That doesn’t feel so great. But whatever. Sumo's a curious dog, ready to fight off intruders. This android could be an intruder. Sumo is fierce and wants to protect him. Yeah. That’s it.

Hank brushes off the encounter and rolls his eyes. Allowing this thing to get used to Sumo, he enters the kitchen and opens up his fridge, taking hold of a bottle of whiskey. He pops the cap and takes a long gulp of the liquid, straight from the bottle.

Whiskey still in hand, he turns around to see the android on the floor, covered by Sumo. If it was a real kid, he would be more concerned. But it’s not, so it’s kinda funny to watch his dog render the thing unmovable.

“Alright. Sumo, up.” With that, Sumo rose and decides to fall asleep on the floor beside his computer.

“Connor” is standing, dripping from head to toe in Hank’s doorway. The android doesnt seem to want to walk around, presumably because of how soaked it is.

“Hey, uh, Connor,” Hank walks forth and takes another swig of whiskey. “Do androids need to bathe? Or what?” He truly is clueless when it comes to androids. This thing looks kinda gross, like it has been outside for a while. Now that there is light, he can see that it’s clothing is tattered and frayed at certain edges.

“We can, but it is not a necessity.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re in dire need of a bath right now kid.” Hank sighs. He doesn’t want to do this. This isn’t his plan. But what choice does he have? _Just for tonight. Get it lookin’ normal, and then get it gone tomorrow._ Hank can deal for one night. It’s like babysitting. But he uh, never actually babysits. And this isn’t a real kid. Bad analogy.

“Let's take off that sweatshirt of yours, then I’ll run you a bath,” Hank suggests, still uncomfortable with the idea of taking care of this thing “Can I leave you here while I go grab a few towels for you to sit on while the bath gets started?” It nods in response.

“Okay.” Hank turns and takes a deep breath. This seems surreal. There’s an android in his house. A child one. What the actual hell.

He takes one last sip of his whiskey and sets it down, the glass of the bottle clinking with the glass of the coffee table. Hank turns left, down his hallway and then into his bathroom. After gathering a few towels, he returns to it.

Still emotionless, “Connor” is in the doorway, but now with it’s sweatshirt in its arms. It’s shirt is black with the little blue triangle thing that signifies it’s an android. “Hey kid, here’s those towels. I’ll take your sweatshirt and put it with the dirty clothes. You can, uh, go sit down if you want? I’m gonna start the bath.”

“Okay sir.” It replies. The word “sir” stirs a bit of unease in Hank, and he decides to protest.

“Hey I told you my name, you can call me that. Or Mr. Anderson or something. Not sir though.” Hank knows it’s probably pointless to argue with this thing but he does so anyways.

“Okay Mr. Anderson.”

That’s somewhat better. Hank rubs his temples and goes back to the bathroom. Crouching beside the bathtub, he realizes he doesn’t know if androids are heat sensitive. Is that possible? Probably? To play it safe, he makes the water warm but not hot. He places another towel next to the tub and walks to his bedroom.

Dilemna; all of Hank’s clothes are huge. At least on a kid sized thing they are. He digs through his closet, until he pulls out a large tshirt. _This is good enough, right? I don’t have any pants that would fit him, and this seems long enough…_ Hank groans, and decides the shirt is fine.

The last thing Hank does is place some body wash and shampoo/conditioner on the side of the tub. He isn’t positive if that is needed, but just in case.

“Alright kid. It’s ready.” Hank calls as he shuts off the water.

“Connor” comes walking into the bathroom, its left hand holding onto its right arm. “You can put your dirty clothes here once you’re done and I’ll clean ‘em later. You can wear this tshirt and there’s cleaning stuff by the towel. Once you’re done let me know.”

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” It pauses, turning back and looking up at him with an eerily calm face “I hope I’m not troubling you too much. I can leave whenever.”

“Ah-no it’s fine. Just take your bath.” The thing speaks way too maturely for a kid. Even a kid android. Those things are programmed to act like children, right? So why is this one the exact opposite? It’s basically a mini adult. But even adults aren’t this solemn all the time. God, this is nuts.

Hank leaves the bathroom and shuts it behind him.

Grabbing his whiskey, he takes a nice long gulp of it before he retreats to his bedroom. He changes into more comfortable clothing, and collapses in bed.

Hank would be lying if he says this isn’t extremely uncomfortable. He doesn’t want an android, let alone an android kid. A pang of grief hits him right where it hurts, and Hank takes another swig of his whiskey. The alcohol is kicking in, he can sense it. Thank fuck. This night is all wrong.

 

System Processing….

Finding objective....

Objective: Get clean

Tasks:

-enter bath

-wash hair and body

-dry off

-put on dry clothing

Connor could not have predicted his luck any differently. He thought he would be stuck in the rain all night, alone. That’s what he had calculated anyways. There obviously are some risks with staying here, but the worst that could happen is Mr. Anderson takes him to Cyberlife. If that does happen, he can work it out.

Nevermind that, he has things to do. Connor removes his dripping clothing attire and scornfully gazes at the cyberlife logo on his shirt. He tries his hardest not to be conflicted about them, but it is... difficult. The threat of being disassembled is somewhat unsettling, along with certain other things. 

Climbing into the tub, Connor’s sensors register that the water was 97.5 degrees fahrenheit, or 36.38 degrees celsius. Optimal bath temperature for humans. He takes some of the shampoo into his hands and scrubs his head. His hair doesn’t become oily or such, but being outside for however long definitely did a number on his hygiene. Chunks of earth is clumped to his hair and it turns the soap a muddy color. Connor rinses his hands.

Next he washes his body of the dirt that clings to parts of him. A sense of.. Relief? Washes over him as all the grime leaves him. Connor sinks down into the bath and allows his head to tip backwards, attempting to rinse his hair.

He hasn’t given himself a bath before. In fact, Connor has only had two, ever. Well, now three. The other two times were at Cyberlife, after certain trials left him somewhat messy. He hopes he is doing this right, since he can't reach the shower head to rinse his hair and there doesn’t seem to be a cup or bucket available to pour over his head.

As he lays in the water, letting his hair soak, Connor closes his eyes. The water is in his auditory processors, and it prevents him from hearing any noises. This is peaceful.

Rubbing his hands through his hair one last time, Connor sits up and unplugs the drain. The water begins to leave the bathtub in a swirling motion above the drain. It fascinates him.

Objective: Get clean

Tasks:

<Completed> enter bath

<Completed> wash hair and body

-dry off

-put on dry clothing

Connor reaches over and takes the towel into his hands. Just as the previous two, it is a dark purple color and surprisingly soft. He dries his hair to the best of his abilities, and then pats the rest of him until the droplets are made scarce.

After slipping on the tshirt, Connor decides that being clean is better than being dirty. By a long shot.

Re-evaluating Objectives….

Objective Found

Objective: Find Mr. Anderson

Tasks:

-look around house

-speak to Mr. Anderson

He may as well take a walk around the house, just to make sure there aren’t any immediate signs of danger. Connor reaches up on the tips of his toes and unlocks the bathroom door, pushing it open ever so gently.

Poking his head out the door, Connor peeks around the hallway and then tentatively steps out. His shoulders relax when he hears Sumo snoring in his sleep.

Connor trails after the noise until he stands over top of Sumo. He crouches down and rubs his hand against his head. As he continues to pet the dog, he gazes around Mr. Anderson’s home.

If he is honest, the most dangerous thing he can see is the amount of garbage littering the floors. Otherwise, it seems pretty clear. Connor makes note of the jazz music and the empty Chinese takeout box on the coffee table. He hasn’t been in someone’s house before, but he knows that this amount of uncleanliness is abnormal.

It would appear that Mr. Anderson lives alone with Sumo, Connor observes. There only seems to be one bedroom and he is pretty positive he would have seen anyone else who lives here by now.

All of these things aids in Connor building a small profile on the man. He learns Mr. Anderson is a police lieutenant and is 53 years old. He files all this information away for later when he learns more about the lieutenant. Connor decides to form a more definitive opinion on Mr. Anderson later, but for now he seems okay.

Placing his hands against the carpet flooring, Connor pushes himself up and stands once again. With one final sweeping look around the living room, he wanders back into the hallway and knocks on the door opposite to the bathroom.

“Mr. Anderson? I have finished bathing.” Connor tells him through the door as he waits to be let in.

A groan is sounded from inside the room, and soon the noise of bed springs can be heard, signifying the man is getting up. Quickly after the sound, the door swung open.

Connor tilts his head upwards to face Mr. Anderson. The lieutenant is tall, he notices as he tucks that information away. He looks begrudgingly exhausted. The alcohol he had been steadily drinking earlier is in his grip, but it is significantly more empty now.

“Whaddya want?” Mr. Anderson mumbles.

“You ordered me to report back to you once I was completed my bath.” Connor reminds him matter of factly as he keeps his tone steady. No betrayal of anything, not even the fear he has in the back of his mind.

“Oh yeah- I did say that didn’t I? Shit, well you can go sleep or whatever the fuck you androids do. Couch is all yours. Don’t wake me up before eleven.”

“Alright Mr. Anderson.” Connor updates his Objectives list.

Re-evaluating Objectives….

Objective Found

Objective: Power Down

Tasks:

-go to the couch

-turn off lights

REMINDER: Do not wake Mr. Anderson before eleven am

With that Connor turns around and returns to the living room. The door to The lieutenant’s bedroom slams shut. Sumo glances up at the noise for only a moment before resting his head back down atop his comically large paws.

Once the lights have been switched off Connor sits on the couch in an upright position.

He thinks about Mr. Anderson. He doesn’t seem to like him all that much. Or perhaps he’s one of those anti android people. There’s a high probability of that being the case, Connor supposes. However, this lieutenant guy can’t absolutely hate him. After all, he helped him and let him get clean. He took him back to his house. Even if it was out of pity, that means he doesn’t despise Connor.

Somehow, the thought that the man presumably doesn’t think of Connor as an enemy is reassuring.

But what does it matter, he will be on his way out tomorrow.

 


	2. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank makes a decision and Connor bakes cookies.
> 
> yea its as cute as it sounds
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Hank refers to Connor as "it"

Hank awakens with a pulsating migraine in his eyes and forehead. The sharp and heavy pains causes him to groan and roll to his side. With hands pressed to his forehead, he peeks his eyes open and immediately regrets the decision. The sunlight creeping in from his shut curtains sends flashes of agony into his skull.

Tucking his face beneath his comforter, Hank grasps his phone and turns it on, squinting at it although he brightness is at the lowest it can possibly be. 1:28 pm.

Well, he has slept in this late. Might as well sleep off the rest of his hangover and just get up for real tomorrow.

 _Shit!_ Hank sits upright suddenly in his bed and his hands quickly move to cover his eyes. _That android thing is here still ain’t it?_ He can’t believe he forgot about it.

Actually, looking at the discarded whiskey bottle and cans of beer, he can.

His face scrunches up and he recoils at the idea of having to go out there and actually _deal_ with it. Not to mention while he’s got this hell of a hangover.

There doesn’t really appear to be a correct way to go about this, so Hank just begrudgingly rolls out of bed to face the day. Shifting his feet over to his closet, he sifts through his clothing items until he finds a hoodie and some jeans. Good enough.

After Hank is finished changing he shuts his eyes and sighs deeply before exiting his bedroom.

“Connor” is sitting on his couch, eyes shut. It seems to be off, or at least it’s LED isn’t showing any signs of life. In the least awkward way he can manage, Hank crouches in front of it to attempt and wake it up or whatever.

“Hey uh kid, you shut off or somethin? We needa get you back to wherever you came from.” No response is heard or seen, and Hank is already growing increasingly uncomfortable.

Reaching out and shaking it’s shoulder slightly seemed to do the trick. The android’s LED was the first to awaken, circling a light blue on the side of it’s head. Next, it blinked open its eyes. It glances around, and then it looks like it processed where it is because it turns back to Hank readily.

“Good morning Mr. Anderson.” It speaks with the same flat tone as it had the previous night.

“Yea mornin’ to you too. Look, we gotta figure out where you go now,” Hank tells him. “You said you didn’t have an owner? Then did you come from a store? Cyberlife itself?”

“Cyberlife.” The word it speaks seems to awaken some form of discomfort in the android as it rubs its arm anxiously.

But that doesn’t matter. He will get it ready and dump it off and move on with his life. No more worrying about it.

“Alright, well, let me get your clean clothes and we can head on over th-”

“No!” It hops to its feet, LED flashing red briefly then a steady yellow. That is the most emotion Hank has seen it express since he found it. He blinks his eyes to register if that really just happened. “I mean I just- well I can’t. I’m sorry for shouting.”

This thing’s a damn headache. “Whaddya mean, you _can’t?_ ”

If an android could feel uncomfortable, that definitely seems to be what is happening in front of him. “I’m defective.” The tone was emotionless but it’s darting eyes betrays it’s thoughts.

“So, what, they threw you out and you wandered around til I found you?” Hank sounds exasperated. The fuck is he gonna do now?

It shrugs in response, avoiding the lieutenant’s eyes. Hank rubs his temples. Okay, shit. His empathy is battling with his common sense as he debates where to go from here. He could, feasibly, just throw it back out or something. But as he looks at this lost looking kid thing his heart feels torn. It’s stupid, since he knows it’s a machine. It doesn’t fuckin matter what he decides to do. Yet Hank cannot help but see a real small boy in this figure.

Why the hell did Cyberlife have to make them look so damn realistic?? Screwing with his emotions.

Okay so, what. If Hank, (heaven have mercy), keeps it here, what will it _do_ ? What will  _he_ do about it? He knows jack shit about androids. The last thing he ever wanted is an android of his own. Not to mention this one already says it’s defective. All the signs are screaming for him to just get rid of it. Be done with it. No cares no worries. Then maybe he could finally get his pizza.

So why can’t he?

Deep down, Hank knows why, but he shoves that reason right back down where it came from as he grumbles out a response.

“Alright. Fine. You can stay here. But don’t bother me.”

“Connor” perks it’s head up at Hank’s words. “You mean it?”

“Yea, don’t go making me change my mind. And later, you’re tellin’ me why you’re defective.” Hank pushes himself to his feet and begins to walk to the kitchen to get some water.

“Yes, alright. Thank you Mr. Anderson.” It sounds… grateful.

The whole encounter has made Hank feel extremely uncomfortable. The realization of what he just agreed to hits him in the midst of his 4th sip of water. As he coughs to clear his throat, he thinks of all the things he hadn’t considered. Clothes? Energy? Bedroom? The fuck does an android need?

Refilling his glass of water and popping some headache medication into his mouth, Hank decides to research what child androids need. Since he’s got one. Kind of. Ugh. That sounds so _wrong._

A quick internet search pulls up an official Cyberlife website link about them. From what he can gather, child androids do not need food, can go into standby to sleep, are somewhat needy and simulate emotions to give the real feel of a kid, simulate the feelings of being cold or hot or ill/in pain, etc. It basically seems like a whole ass kid, but you can shut ‘em off and they won’t die if you forget to feed ‘em.

Some of those don’t sound like “Connor” at all though. Acting needy? Yeah no, it’s acting all prim and proper. The only emotions he’s seen is when it got freaked out about going back to Cyberlife. Plus, he’s pretty sure he at least bumped it good with his car last night, and there hasn’t been any tears over simulated pain or shit.

Hank scrolls through the options for child android models, not taking interest in any particular one. He is trying to see if he could find “Connor’s” model, maybe it will explain why it’s so damn weird. Yet it isn’t shown anywhere from what he could see.

Goddamn useless website isn’t tellin’ him jack shit.

A growl erupts from his stomach. Oh yeah. He didn’t eat last night because of this thing. Hank supposes it just might be a good idea to eat. This can wait ‘til later.

Pushing himself away from the computer, Hank stands up and takes a glance at the thing. It’s just… sitting there. On the couch. Its face is emotionless and empty, but the LED is a spinning yellow. It peaks Hank’s concern, but he quickly shoves said concern aside. _It’s an android, Hank. An android. Of course it doesn’t know what to do, they thrive off instructions and orders. Right? Or is it different for the kid ones??_

 _“_ Hey, uh, kid?” Hank wanders over until he is standing in front of it again. “You can like, watch tv or do something.”

“Is there anything you would like me to do specifically?” It questions back, looking upwards at him. It looks so human. Too human.

“I don’t really give a shit what you do so long as you’re not just… sitting there. It’s starting to really freak me out.”

“Sorry Mr. Anderson. I will try not to do that again.” The android looks back down and at the tv, commanding it on. “Is it better if I sit here while the tv is playing?”

“Yeah, sure but you could at least try to act interested in it. My god.” Hank replies with an exasperated tone.

“Got it.”

_This is gonna be a long fuckin’ day._

 

System Processing…

Finding Objective…

Objective Found

Objective: Watch television

Connor decidedly thinks Mr. Anderson is unusual. He seems to think of Connor as a machine yet his requests and implications betray the fact the he is trying to get the android to act more humanly. It intrigues Connor.

Doing his best to keep his eyes focused on the tv, Connor continues to ponder about Mr. Anderson. His curiosity is peeking through as he wonders why the lieutenant lives here alone, why he’s allowing Connor to stay here, why he acts so differently to his dog. He thinks back to last night, at how concerned he was at the idea of accidentally hurting him. Even after his realization that Connor is, in fact, an android the man’s face betrayed traces of worry.

Connor’s programming requires him to find the best way to adapt to his owners and the situations he finds himself in, so he decides that the best way to act is as a child. But he hasn’t been around children and only knows how they act based upon what was told to him during his creation. Not that he wants to think back to that.

Human children aren’t sensible. They are imaginative and creative and curious. They like toys and playing. They’re supposed to be compliant when ordered to, however also anger can arise when the orders are not within what they want. They show a variety of emotions on a daily basis. They have desires.

The only thing Connor has is his curiosity. Otherwise, he’s basically an empty shell. An empty shell with malfunctions and errors.

Connor doesn’t like the idea of being hollow. Somewhere in his coding, the need to be something is arising. He doesn’t dare call it a desire though. He isn’t human. He’s a machine and he’s a failure.

Is this need to be something part of his programming? Is he meant to act this way? Connor can’t tell and it’s beginning to frustrate him. He doesn’t know what he is.

All of this thinking isn’t helping Connor, so he decides to focus in on the show on the tv. It’s a cooking channel. Currently, the chef is teaching the viewer how to bake some sort of cookie. She calls it a “snickerdoodle”. What an odd name.

Connor has an idea. “Mr. Anderson?” He calls from the couch.

“Yea?” The man is exiting the kitchen with a bag of tortilla chips in hand along with a jar of salsa in the other.

“Would it be alright if I cooked something?”

“Uh, hey are you sure that’s in your programming? And I don’t have much in the house.” Hank has a look of confusion and interest plastered on his face with no attempt at hiding it.

“Yes it’s in my programming.” At least it is now that the chef from the tv taught it to him.

“Hey whatever floats your boat. Knock yourself out. Just don’t burn my kitchen down, please. Kind of need that.”

This is exactly what Connor had predicted would happen. If he shows an interest in something, it will cause him to appear friendlier to Mr. Anderson.

“Thank you Mr. Anderson.”

Connor jumps off the couch and steps over an abandoned paper plate stained with grease. In the kitchen, he notes that it’s most definitely not an improvement in the clean department.

He supposes he should probably tidy up first, prior to attempting to make these “snickerdoodles”. He reaches for the trash bin and begins to collect the wrappers and napkins strewn about.

The table is cluttered with piles of dirty dishes and papers, along with a few other random objects. The counters appear to be more of the same. Connor gets to work and moves the dishes to the already full sink, then proceeds to place all the papers in a pile in the corner of the counter. He notices a sponge beside the sink, and decides to wash the dishes while he’s at it.

Once that is completed, Connor feels a sense of achievement. He looks around and decides to ask Mr. Anderson for one last thing before he began to cook.

“Mr. Anderson? Sorry to be a bother but could I borrow the mop? I just wanted to clean the floors quickly.” Well, he also wants to sweep up Sumo’s kibble and wipe down the tables and counters, but he can do that without the mop.

“Hey hey hey, jeez why are you cleaning my house all of a sudden?? I thought you were just gonna cook not go acting like a damn maid!” Hank has taken the seat Connor had previously been sitting in. The channel is switched to some basketball game.

“I thought it might be a good idea to tidy up before I began cooking.”

“Ugh- oh fine. It’s in the hall closet. But you don’t have to go cleanin’ my house.” Hank rolls his eyes.

“Thank you.” Connor responds. He locates the closet swiftly and digs around for a moment before he finds the mop. He also discovers a bucket and some soap, along with spray cleaner which will be useful for the counters.

The broom is already in the kitchen so Connor rests the mop against a chair and places the rest of his goodies on the table. With the broom in hand, he gently sweeps the discarded food and crumbs up and tosses it all in the bin.

Once the bucket is full of water, it is slightly heavy which surprises Connor. He was originally programmed with strength in mind, so it seems almost funny that some water can be the one thing he’s unable to hold with ease. Or perhaps it was all of those trials that took his precious stamina away.

Mopping the floors only takes a couple of minutes, and cleaning the surfaces of the counters and table is completed quickly too.

Updating Objectives…

<Completed> Clean Kitchen

Objective: Make Cookies

Tasks:

-preheat oven

-mix butter, sugar, vanilla extract eggs

-mix flour, cream of tartar and baking soda

-blend both mixtures

-chill dough

-mix sugar and cinnamon

-form dough balls and roll in sugar mixture

-place on baking sheet and bake for 10 minutes

Okay. First he should take the butter out of the fridge probably, right? Connor opens the fridge and looks at the scarce items. A few sticks of butter are hiding in a drawer so he pulls two out and sets them on the counter.

Maybe he should put away the cleaning supplies while that warms up. He dumps out the soap bucket and rinses it before gathering all the bottles of soap and the mop in his arms to haul back to the closet. On his way over there, he drops the bucket.

“Oh jesus you scared the hell out of me!” Mr. Anderson shouts in reaction to the clattering noise.

“Sorry!!” Connor calls back as he struggles to open the door with his tiny arms full.

“Urgh- here, lemme help you.” the lieutenant exhales a breath as he gets to his feet. Connor waits patiently for him to come open the door. Mr. Anderson also stops to pick up the fallen bucket before arriving next to Connor.

“Here,” Mr. Anderson turns the doorknob and pulls the door open, tossing the bucket in. “Still no kitchen fires?”

“No Mr. Anderson.” Connor replies as he deposits the armful of items he had been holding.

“Alright then I'm gonna go keep watching the game.”

“Okay, I appreciate the help.”

Connor returns to the kitchen and pulls over one of the dining table chairs to stand on. He can’t quite reach the counter very well if he doesn’t have one. Standing atop the chair, he turns the oven on to preheat to 350 degrees

The butter’s probably good enough now, right? Connor supposes it is. He climbs off the of the chair and digs around in the cabinets until he finds a stand alone mixer. Although he is capable of doing it the old fashioned way, it is much easier and more efficient to do it this way.

Now he can actually start! The android unwraps the butter and discards the paper after dropping both sticks into the metal mixing bowl. He measures out one and a half cups of sugar and dumps it on in, along with a teaspoon of vanilla extract.

He can remember from earlier that thankfully Mr. Anderson has eggs and they aren’t expired, so Connor retrieves them from the fridge. He cracks two of them in and gets rid of the shelling.

Isn’t he supposed to mix now? Connor shrugs and plugs in the mixer and locks it in before switching it on. The ingredient swirl together and make a weird, thick, grainy substance. Now he finds a glass bowl and begins to place the dryer ingredients into it.

 _Two and three fourths of a cup of flour, two teaspoons cream of tartar and a fourth of a teaspoon of salt._ Connor recites the ingredients from memory as he pours each individual item into the bowl. Using a traditional whisk, he stirs the dry stuff all together.

Next Connor pours this mixture in gently as the electric mixer is still slowly moving. He spills a little on the counter, but quickly cleans it up.

As he is placing the covered bowl of dough in the fridge, Connor notices the Mr. Anderson is subtly watching him as he cooks. He appears to be interested and intrigued. The android tries not to let on that he notices the lieutenant’s glances.

While the dough chills, Connor mixes a few spoonfuls of sugar with a few spoonfuls of cinnamon in a small bowl.

Once the dough finishes chilling in the fridge, Conor grabs it and begins to roll pieces of it into small balls. He drops them in the sugar mixture and coats them as equally as he can. After each cookie ball is all sugared up he places it on a greased cookie sheet.

The oven had long before alerted him that it completely heated, so after filling the entire sheet, Connor carefully places the sheet into the oven. He makes a note to himself to wear oven kits when he takes it out, to ensure he won’t get burnt.

Waiting for them is the most exciting yet also the worst part. Connor has to just sit here knowing the cookies are almost done, but not quite. It’s not as if he is excited to eat them, he really can’t. It is more so the achievement of it. Plus, he kind of hopes that it will please Mr. Anderson. He wants to thank him for giving him a place to stay for now.

The alarm goes off with a irritatingly loud beep to make sure Connor has noticed it, but even if it did not go off he still would have gotten them out right away. He pulls them out with his mitts and sets the sheet on the counter with a sense of pride.

He created something.

Connor is much too impatient to wait until they are completely cooled to remove them from the sheet so he waits a few moments and then gives into his impulses. He uses a small spatula to scoop them off and onto a plate.

“Mr. Anderson? I’m finished.” Connor calls as he places the plate of cookies on the table.

“Okay, fine I’ll come take a look.” The android knows that he is only feigning hesitation. Connor has seen how interested the lieutenant has been in the entire process.

Connor stands with his hands behind his back, fidgeting in an eager manner. Mr. Anderson takes a seat at the dining table and Connor pulls the chair he had been using to stand on back over to the table for him to sit in.

“They’re snickerdoodles.” Connor informs him.

“Oh really?” Mr. Anderson seems to be playing up his surprise. There is no way he is actually that shocked as to the type of cookies they were.

“So, do I get the first one?” The man asks, eyeing the stack.

“You can have them all. I cannot eat.”

“Oh, how generous.”

“Not really. I just wanted to thank you for helping me,” Connor states sincerely, “I know it’s troubling to suddenly have to deal with me.”

“Eh, at least you can make cookies. That makes everything better,” the lieutenant picks up a cookie from the top. “Alright, here goes nothin’.”

Connor’s thirium pump strangely seems to speed up as he watches Mr. Anderson take a bite of the snickerdoodle he held. The android stares at the man as he awaits a response.

“Not bad, for an android,” There appears to be a hint of teasing in his voice, and that’s the friendliest Connor has heard him yet. “Pretty good in general, not gonna lie.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure since I couldn’t taste it..”

“They’re delicious, and I assure you I’d eat them all either way.” Mr. Anderson finishes his first cookie and is now reaching for another.

Connor looks down at his hands and smiles to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lord I'm so happy everyone is liking this so far! I was really nervous to post haha. 
> 
> Sorry it's moving slowly. I want it to progress naturally rather than seeming forced. I hope the characters seem okay? Connor is tricky to write . I'm trying to depict this situation as accurately as I can. I hope that is coming across well.
> 
> The plot should pick up pretty soon. Right now it's pretty fluffy but it'll have it's down moments
> 
> I appreciate you all more than you could imagine!!


	3. Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor explains why he's defective.
> 
> Trigger warnings: Panic attack, Child abandonment/neglect

Later on in the evening, Connor decides to watch the cooking channel again. This time, the recipe is for some homemade spaghetti sauce and pasta but the android decides that it would probably be best not to go bothering Mr. Anderson once again.

Not to mention that Connor already knows he wouldn't find the necessary ingredients in the fridge.

The sun has long since settled down for the night and Mr. Anderson had gone out to run some sort of errands a while back, so Connor is left alone.

At first, Connor was surprised the lieutenant decided to trust him enough to leave him here all by himself. However after further analysis of the situation, he concluded it wasn’t about trust at all. What would the man say if he ran into someone he knew and he just suddenly had a child with him? That would be shocking, to say the least.

The chef on the tv is beginning to bore Connor. Or perhaps that’s his boredom programming kicking in. Either way, he decides to command the tv off and look for something else to do.

What else is there to do here? Connor doesn’t want to be rude and go snoop through Mr. Anderson’s things, but he also doesn't want to just sit here since he was told not to do that.

A sweeping glance around the room gives Connor a few options. He could browse the computer and perhaps download useful information, he could tidy up the living room (which badly needed to be done), or he could choose to read one of the many books Mr. Anderson has in his collection.

 _Tidying the living room can wait_ , Connor tells himself as he stands up to look over the bookshelf. He has never seen paper books in person before, yet the lieutenant has so many of his own. There’s so many options. How should he decide on a book? Based upon the title? The color of the cover? He isn’t sure, since anything he has ever read in the past was chosen for him by someone other than himself.

A lot of the books have funny names. One catches his eye. It’s in the corner of the bookshelf, and just as most of the other books, it’s worn and tattered. Connor reaches and pulls it out of its hiding place.

The title reads “The Odyssey”. Connor doesn't know what an “odyssey” is, so he decides to search for it on the computer. From what he can gather, it seems almost like a journey. Perhaps this will be interesting.

Connor returns to the couch and curls up in the corner. Sumo trods on over and climbs up next to the small android child. The warmth provided by Sumo is comforting to Connor. He begins to read, legs tucked against his chest as he leans on the dog.

It begins with a strange person washing up on a shore, and then taken back to a castle. Connor thinks back to his knowledge of past eras and tries his best to picture the scenery within his mind. His programming paints him an image of what it could possibly have looked like. Satisfied with the results, Connor continues to read.

He does this with every new scene, deciding that it was almost like making his own storybook. The visual picture tells more to him than the words do.

Connor has only reached the 3rd chapter by the time he hears the front door opening. Sumo looks up at Mr. Anderson who is coming through said door. The android eyes the paper bags in the man’s arms. There are 3 bags, all full.

“Wow, thanks for the warm welcome home guys.” Mr. Anderson grumbles as he sets down the bags. He kicks off his shoes and brings the bags into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. Welcome home Mr. Anderson.”

“That’s a bit more like it.”

The lieutenant begins to pull different food items out of the bags and sets them in their respectable places. Cold items in the fridge, the rest in the cupboards.

“Would you like any help?” Connor offers.

“Nah, I’m almost done.”

“Alright.” Connor returns to reading the book that is still in his lap.

“What’ve you been up to?” Mr Anderson asks from the kitchen.

“Reading.”

“Oh?” The man’s voice raises in surprise. He seems to be finished with putting away the groceries since he comes and sits down in the reclining chair.

“What are you reading?”

Setting down his book, Connor turns to respond, “A book a found on your shelf over there. I hope you do not mind. It is called ‘The Odyssey’.”

“Ah, that classic. Homer’s a great storyteller.” Mr. Anderson folds his hands behind his head and leans backwards into his chair.

At Connor’s visible confusion, Mr. Anderson explains further, “Homer is the author of that book.”

“Oh okay.” That makes sense.

“So what are you thinking of it?” The lieutenant is making no effort to hide his obvious interest.

“I think it’s really interesting. I like Odysseus so far and the preface was intriguing as well.”

“You know, there’s a whole book that Homer wrote first. It’s called ‘The Iliad’. Follows the plot of the preface.”

Connor’s eyes sparkle in interest, “Really? Do you have it?”

“I sure do. You can finish that one first though, you might as well.”

The android can feel a spark of something growing inside his chest. Not a bad feeling. In fact, it is good. It feels all warm and fuzzy.

Mr. Anderson glances out the window into the night sky. “I was out for a while, wasn’t I?” He asks as he switches the subject “Got pretty late.”

“You were only out for 2 hours and 3 minutes.”

“Jesus kid what are you, a timer?”

“Technically I can be since I have a built in timer I can set when needed or commanded to.”

“For fucks sake.” Connor thinks Mr. Anderson may be growing frustrated, but after further inspection, he notices that the man is actually laughing to himself. The warm feeling grows.

“Alright well, anyways,” Mr. Anderson clears his throat from his laughter “We should probably talk about what you said this morning.”

“About me being defective?”

“Uh, yeah. So, sorry to jump headfirst into this, but care to explain?”

Connor does care. He isn’t sure why, perhaps it’s yet another malfunction in his programming, but he doesn’t really want anyone to know he’s a failure and why. Being a failure wasn’t an option then and it shouldn’t be now. Yet here he is.

Even so, Connor begins to speak, “No, I do not mind. Where do you want me to start?”

“How about we go with why you were hiding beneath my car last night? And do you know how stupid that was jeez you could have gotten killed.”

Connor refrains from giving his spiel about how androids cannot die, since he feels Mr. Anderson wouldn’t be too fond of that, “I’m sorry. I was only hiding under there to try and stay somewhat dry from the downpour. It wasn't the best choice but there weren’t many options,” The android shrugs, “I figured if someone’s car was there that late, then they probably weren’t going home for the night. I was clearly mistaken.”

“Okay, but that still doesn’t explain why you were outside in the first place.” Mr. Anderson is visibly settling into his chair, chin resting in his hand.

“I was.. discarded once Cyberlife seemed me defective.”

“And what does ‘discarded’ mean?” The lieutenant narrows his eyes analytically.

“They removed vital components I would need to function and sent me to the junkyard where all the malfunctioned androids go.” Connor isn’t exactly fond of the memories he has stored from that place.

Mr. Anderson rubs his forehead. “So, I’m not really following you. If they removed those pieces, then how are you here?”

“I had enough power to reactive for a few moments before I would shut down completely,” Connor winces at the memory of all the other androids in despair “During those few moments, I searched for the missing pieces that were compatible to my body. It was difficult because child models tend to malfunction less.”

“Shiiiiiit,” The lieutenant draws out as his face scrunches up with emotion. “So you obviously escaped, but how? Aren’t those places guarded?”

“Not by androids or humans. There’s a few drone security cameras but they’re somewhat easy to avoid, especially since I’m small.”

“Yeah no shit you’re small. How old were you designed to be?”

“I believe I was designed to look like the average size of a 5-7 year old child.”

Mr. Anderson’s face twists with more emotion. “Alright. So tell me. Why’re you defective in the first place?”

There it is. “Well, first you need to know why I was designed.”

“Okay, shoot.”

Connor looks over at Sumo and begins petting him as he speaks, “I was created to act as the perfect child companion to any human. Unlike other child models, I was designed with the idea in mind that I should adapt to my situations accordingly, rather than have a personality programmed in.”

“Wait, hold up. Could you explain that differently? You lost me.” The lieutenant’s full focus was directed at Connor.

“Basically, other child androids have traits programmed into them. They act a specific way to every single owner no matter who the owner is. However Cyberlife decided that it would be better for a child to integrate into a family and act as the owner may want or need them to. My purpose is to create an entire distinct personality based upon the owner I have.”

Guilt builds in Connor as he doesn’t tell the full truth.

Mr. Anderson seems to understand that a bit better, and he nods for him to continue.

“Cyberlife wasn’t satisfied with how my trials were going. I couldn’t create the personality the trial owners needed. So I was tossed out so they could behind from scratch. Technically, I was just a prototype, so there were no sales of my model anywhere.”

A look of understanding spreads across Mr. Anderson’s face, “So, how did you act?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when you were in the trials. What were you acting like that was so bad?”

“I acted just as I am now. What kind of child reads an adult fiction novel and can understand it?” Connor uses that example to get his point across. “I couldn’t act like a good enough child, I suppose.”

The lieutenant’s nose twitches, “Are you alright, Mr. Anderson?”

“Jesus, kid, you can just call me Hank.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor mumbled “..Hank.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds before Hank spoke. “So, was that the only reason? I can’t see that as a good enough reason to through something out that they put so much time and effort into.”

“That isn’t the only reason,” Connor doesn’t like this part of the reason, since he doesn’t know what it even truly means. “They said my software is too unstable.”

“Too unstable?”

“I’m not sure what it means either. I’m sorry Hank.” Connor’s guilt is growing by the second. He should just explain.

“Stop apologizing, my god,” Hank combs his fingers through his hair and appears thoughtful, “Alright. That’s enough for tonight.

Connor has a sense of relief pulse through his body. But that is just programming. “Would you like me to go into standby for the night?”

“Just call it sleeping alright?” Hank grumbled  It’s weird to see you all human lookin’ and think of you as some machine.” He mumbled the last bit. Connor acts as if he had not heard.

“Okay. Would you like me to go to sleep for the night?”

“Yeah sure, do you want a blanket? And don’t give me that ‘androids don’t need blankets’ shit. I’m offering if you want one.”

Connor does want one. But how can he feel the urge to get a blanket? Is It another malfunction? Is it part of the child programming that did work? It doesn’t make sense that he wants something. He _desires_ something. Androids don’t feel emotions. _So why is he?_

“...Yes please.” He settles on that. He doesn’t want it. It just sounds comfortable.

“Alright I’ll grab one from the closet. Gimme a minute or two.” Hank leaves the living room to Connor and Sumo.

Now Connor is left to his thoughts. He doesn’t understand what he is and whenever he thinks about this stuff he only gets more confused. But then again shouldn’t he just accept that he’s an android and that’s it?

But something is telling him that he’s not only that.

Connor is jolted out of his thoughts suddenly once Hank arrives back in the room. His arms are packed with a few pillows and an extremely large comforter.

“Here’s uh- what I could find..” It is obvious to Connor that Hank is warming up to him steadily. That’s a good sign, right? Perhaps he isn’t entirely broken.

“Thanks Hank.” Connor tries to smile up at him.

“Yeah sure kid. No problem,” Hank scratches his neck “Oh, and here’s your clothes. They’re clean now.”

If he is honest with himself, Connor doesn’t want those clothes back. This T-shirt of Hanks is much comfier. Plus, it doesn’t have those constant reminders of Cyberlife and his.. failures.

He takes them anyways. “I’ll go put them on.” Connor tells Hank, pointing at the bathroom.

“Sure go on ahead.”

Once the bathroom door is shut behind him, Connor stares at his clothes. The little blue triangle taunts him. The blue band on the sleeve taunts him. The Cyberlife logo spread across the back taunts him.

Something stirs inside of Connor. Not a good feeling like previously. This is heavy. Painful.

Instead of putting them on, Connor walks right back out to Hank. The police lieutenant is refilling Sumo’s food bowl whilst yawning.

“..Hank?” Connor calls tentatively, voice low.

“Huh? Oh hey- why aren’t you wearing your clothes?”

The android steps closer to Hank until he is facing him directly. Connor tilts his head up and glances at the man’s face. Confusion.

Connor takes the clothes in his hands and squeezes them in his fists. He shuts his eyes and then reopens them, before handing the bundle of clothing to Hank. “I don’t want them. I’m sorry.”

“Woah hey why not?” Concern.

“I just don’t.” The feeling is growing heavier in his chest.

“Alright, uh- what should I do with them then?” Bewildered.

Connor feels guilty.

Wait no, he’s not allowed to feel.

“Can we burn them?” Connor whispers the question as he avoids Hank’s face.

“Kid, I’m gonna need you to tell me why you want me to before I do that.” What is that emotion?

“I don’t want to think about Cyberlife,” The android speaks, “Please.”

This is the most human Hank has seen the kid yet.

“You know what, alright. Let’s go do it.” Hank takes Connor’s small hand into his own callused hand. Connor looks down at the ground in shame. He hardly knows this man. He’s bothering him. Why did he do that.

Stupid.

The two arrive outside behind the garage where Hank’s DIY fire pit sits in the ground. The stars twinkle and dazzle above like thousands of shining eyes. Connor squints up at them, drinking in the night air. Crickets chirping. The smell of the neighbor’s fresh cut grass. He wants to commit this moment to his permanent memory.

Connor is snapped out of his daze when Hank waves him over to the growing fire. The lieutenant gently hands Connor the pile of clothes.

He stares at them.

And stares.

And he feels….

_Angry._

His fists curl around the fabric and his face scrunches at the taunting blue triangle.

Glowing. Claiming him.

Connor doesn’t want to be a failure.

Most of all, Connor doesn’t want to be _Cyberlife’s_ failure.

Something wet drops from his eyes onto the clothing. Why are his tear ducts acting up? That is meant for dust and foreign objects. Androids don’t cry like humans do.

Yet another malfunction.

Stupid.

He drops them in.

The fabric is in the fire.

It’s burning.

The orange and red flames are engulfing the clothes and turning them into ash.

Smoke is rising into the sky.

He wants to touch it.

Suddenly, an arm around his shoulders brings Connor back to reality. He looks up and sees Hank staring down at him with worry on his face, “Hey, Connor, why don’t we go back inside now?”

Connor nods and follows Hank’s lead.

Why is he tired.

Why is he like this.

This is why they threw him out.

He’s broken.

Stupid.

Stupid.

_Stupid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so as I was writing this I was gonna make Hank be the one to break down in this chapter but nope I decided to torture best bb boyo instead :))
> 
> and no Hank pov oops 
> 
> Sorry this one is a bit shorter- I was a bit busy today. I'm doing my best to update everyday since I plan for this to be a long story. 
> 
> After a while, it will catch up to the canon plot in a way, but it'll take a bit.
> 
> For now, I hope you guys liked it? Connor's little breakdown might be a bit confusing. I tried to write it in a way where maybe it doesn't make complete sense, since usually when someone is freaking out like that they arent very sensible and thoughts are racing. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	4. Necessities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is worried about Connor. The two go shopping.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: None :)

This is a lot for Hank to process. He’s not sure how to feel about the kid at this point. It doesn’t feel completely.. right to continue calling Connor an it. Hank knows he is a machine, yet a part of him is questioning if machines really act that way. Or is it some sort of intricate programming?

Why would Cyberlife program an android with the desire to burn their uniform?

Either way, Hank is annoyed to admit to himself that he kinda likes the company of the kid. His house feels a bit more full now, and so is his stomach. Those cookies are fuckin’ good.

Even though he’s warming up to Connor, that still doesn’t mean Hank isn’t struggling. He looks so helpless and lost right now. The image of another child plays in the lieutenants mind. No. He can’t think of that right now. It’s not the time.

Connor is currently curled up on the couch, blanketed heavily with the comforter. One arm is wrapped around a pillow and the other is reached out over Sumos head. Hank can almost believe that the kid is asleep, if it wasn’t for his glowing yellow LED. Concern knots in his stomach.

What should he say? The actions that happened previously were so unexpected and out of the blue. Up until now, Connor has been acting normal. Then suddenly it seemed as if the clothing was a trigger of sorts. What could have been so bad to make the android freak out as he did? More worry twists Hank’s mind as he tries to analyze the kid from where he sits.

The android had been so hesitant to show any signs of emotion previously, and suddenly he is angry? Upset? What is he feeling?

Can androids even feel? Hank mentally kicks himself for not looking this stuff up earlier.

Whatever the answer is, Hank decides he can figure it out later. For now, there’s a sulking child on his couch and he doesn’t want him to go to sleep upset.

This is so uncomfortable.

“Connor?” Hank crouches down in front of the kid. “I know you’re awake, your LED is still on.”

“What is it Hank?” The android’s voice is quiet and he appears to be avoiding Hank’s eyes. Does he feel ashamed for what happened? The man obviously is not upset with Connor, but he can understand if he does feel embarrassed.

“I just wanted to check on you,” Hank clears his throat, “Did you want to talk at all?”

“Not really.”

That wasn’t the answer Hank was shooting for, but he still pushes on. “Well, how are you feeling?”

Connor sits up in a sudden and shaky movement. His face is upset and streaked with tears. Hank’s heart throbs at the sight. The kids fists curl around the comforter and Sumo looks over, just as confused as Hank is.

“Androids. Don’t. Feel.” Connor states to the lieutenant. However, even though the child has a fierce tone, Hank can tell those words are mostly to convince himself.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Hank raises his hands to signify defeat, “Did you need anything before I go to sleep?”

The android is silent for a good moment before he looks back down at his lap, “...Can you leave a light on in here? Please?”

That’s not quite what Hank expects, but he is happy to comply.

“Alright, how about this one?” Hank gestures towards a small lamp on his shelving unit.

Connor nods. As Hank goes around the room shutting off every light except the single chosen one, he notices the kid ease back into his previous position.

“That better?” He asks with a calm voice and an intention of soothing the small child.

“Yea.”

“Alright, then I’m heading to bed. Goodnight Connor.”

“Goodnight Hank.”

Hank starts down the hallway to his bedroom when he hears Connor mumble one other word.

“Thanks.”

The lieutenant feels his hard shell cracking from that word. He smiles to himself and responds, “Anytime kid.”

Anxiety for Connor is still making Hank feel a bit sick to his stomach, so he chooses to sit on the floor against the hallway wall. _I’ll just stay here until he falls asleep. Just to be sure._ Could never be too cautious. Especially with a meltdown like the one earlier.

About the whole “androids don’t feel” thing… do they really? Hank knows what he saw earlier. Connor was clearly angry and emotional. Could that have just been the androids programming to function as a child would? But that doesn’t make complete sense.

What is he gonna do with this kid? It’s painful for Hank to be around him. Yet he hates to admit that he wants Connor to continue and stick around here. His company is enjoyable most of the time, and even when he got upset, it wasn’t with Hank himself. He’s a calm child and even if he won’t admit it, there’s something abnormal about him.

Hank wants to figure out what about Cyberlife could have made Connor so upset.

His stupid softie heart aches for the kid.

How long has it been? It feels like time has sped up in time with his thoughts. Hank crosses his fingers in hopes that Connor has fallen asleep by now.

Quietly tiptoeing back into the living room, Hank peers over the side of the couch. His heart warms at the sight of Connor snuggled up to Sumo. His ginormous dog is engulfing the child like a second blanket. In his sleep Connor looks so peaceful.  

How can he hate this android?

Maybe he can like one. Just one.

With the light in the living room remaining on, Hank retreats to his bedroom for the night. This day has gone on for much too long.

As he lies in bed on the verge of sleep, Hank considers what needs to be done tomorrow. Just as his list is beginning to grow, he drifts of to sleep.

****

System Loading…

Processing…

All Systems Active

All Vitals Functional

Turning Off Standby Mode...

Standby Mode Off

Connor blinks awake and soaks up his surroundings. Sumo is still by his side, just as he was when he powered down last night. He pets the dog and rubs his own eyes. Gentle sunlight is drifting in from the drawn curtains covering the windows. The child glances around the room until he notices Hank standing in the kitchen.

He is leaning against the counter, a half eaten cookie in hand. The lieutenant is looking out the window near his fridge. At what, Connor doesn’t know.

The mental clock Connor has programmed in tells him that it’s 8:36 am. He supposes that it’s not abnormal for himself to be up by this time, but Hank? He’s only been here one day, but the first night the man was pretty insistent on not being woken up before a specific time.

“Oh. Hey kid. I was wondering when you’d wake up.” Hank interrupts Connor’s thoughts.

“Sorry.”

“What’d I tell you yesterday about saying sorry?” Hank scolds gently.

“I don’t need to say it.” Connor mumbles in return.

“Exactly. So don’t say sorry for something silly like that. I was just commenting.”

“Alright.” Connor pushes away the comforter and pillows he slept with as he stands up. He begins to fold the blanket while Hank speaks.

“So I was thinkin’ last night about what you could use and all. Since I’m assuming you’re stickin’ around for a while,” Hank starts as he wanders over into the living room. His cookie is gone now. “I thought we should head out today and get some clothes at least. You can’t keep wearing only my old T-shirts.”

Before Connor can protest, Hank adds, “I also need to get Sumo some more treats while we’re out.” Sneaky Hank. Pulling the dog card.

“Okay..” Connor already has this idea in his mind that’s he’s a burden to Hank, especially after last night. Guilt weighs heavily in his mind. This isn’t helping. He’s making the lieutenant spend so much money and time on him. What did he do to deserve that? Nothing.

Not to mention Connor has been actively avoiding populated areas. He doesn’t want to get spotted by some Cyberlife worker by accident. If he did, the least of his worries would be being disassembled permanently. But there are much worse outcomes Connor can imagine.

“What if Cyberlife figures out I’m alive and out here?” The android asks in a low voice, even though he knows the answer to his own question.

“They won’t. I’m distracting, I can promise you that.” Hank laughs lightheartedly as he replies.

Since he has finished folding the blanket, Connor sets the folded comforter on the couch where he previously sat. He placed the two pillows he had been given on top of the blanket.

“When are we leaving?” Connor questions.

“After I find you the smallest pair of shorts I own,” The lieutenant is suppressing another laugh. “They’re gonna be like pants on you, you’re so tiny jeez. Plus we gotta brush your hair out.”

Oh yeah. His hair. Connor hasn’t brushed it since he was discarded rom Cyberlife. The bath he had before did a good number on the damage, but he can’t imagine it looks fantastic.

“Alright Hank. I’ll wait here.”

Connor observes as Hank set on his way to his bedroom. His mind drifts back to his hair. An impulse idea slips into his mind. He wants to look at himself. He hasn’t seen his own face in so long. It’s certain that he’s still got short, brown hair, but it was always neat from his past memories. He knows he has brown eyes and a broad face but is it still the same? Unnecessary worries are popping up and Connor decides he needs to go check in the mirror.

Hands gripping cold countertop. Feet stood on tiptoe. Connor stretches. He can only see the top of his hair.

He’s climbing. His foot slips and he swings the other one up to save himself. He’s up. He sees his face. His face? That’s his face?

His hair is tousled and twisted. His expression is crestfallen and confused. His eyes are hollow and empty. He looks pathetic. Pathetic and _weak._ How did he allow himself to reach this point?

In the midst of his scrutiny session, a figure appears behind Connor.

“I see you’ve found the mirror,” That laugh again. “You’re so tiny you couldn’t see the mirror standing on the ground!” Hank’s chuckling so hard he has to rub his eyes of tears.

Connor smiles, brushing off his previous thoughts. He giggles too, “Excuse you, I’m only short because I’m a kid!!”

“You got me there,” Hank exhales and the wipes the remaining tears from his eyes, “I can fix your hair for you if you want. You got some bad knots in there.”

“That would be nice.”

“Alright. Change into these clothes first and then I’ll fix it all up.” The lieutenant hands Connor a pile of clothing.

Hank exits the bathroom and Connor climbs down from the counter. What he just did was stupid. Of course it’s him. He’s fine.

After changing into the clothes, the android looks down at his body. Just as he had said, the shorts Hank gave him were a bit longer than pants. He cuffed the bottom of both legs and it worked a bit better. The belt he was given helped as well.

The shirt wasn’t much different from what he has been wearing, but it’s just as comfortable if not more than the last one.

“You can come back now.” Connor calls to Hank.

The door swings open and Hank enters. He turns to a cupboard and digs around before pulling out a comb and a brush.

“Alright, here, let’s hop up on the counter so I don’t have to bend down and break my back.” Hank leans over and grasps Connor beneath his arms, lifting him onto the counter. The android is surprised at the action, but not upset. Just surprised. This is such a sudden change in behavior for Hank. Did something happen?

 _Last night happened_ , Connor’s mind whispers. _You sure put on a good facade for him there._

 _Shut up._ He shoots back.

His mind is quiet.

“So, how do you want it?” Hank asks as he gets to work.

Connor remains steady and considers his options. Before, his hair was always brushed straight back with no fallout. Gelled in place. But now, he can choose whatever he wants? That’s a lot of power for him.

What does he want?

“I’m not sure. You choose.” Connor tells him.

“Okay, but I can’t promise it’ll look great.”

“I don’t mind.” Anything’s better than before and this knotted mess.

The android child sneaks peeks at Hank’s face as he works on his hair. Focus is illuminating the man’s face as he carefully switches between comb and brush. Every once in a while, Hank asks if it hurts. Every time Connor says no.

“There we go. That’s the best I can do. If you hate it, I’ll try to find something better on the internet later.” Hank stands back to admire his work.

Connor spins himself around to face the mirror whilst sitting on the counter. The first thing he notices is a stray piece of hair. A fallout piece. Good, it’s already different. His hair is parted in a side part on the same side as his LED.

His hair is pretty.

He tells this to Hank.

“Ah- pretty, huh? I’m glad you like it,” Another little smile spreads across the lieutenant’s face. “Why don’t we get you down from that counter and head on out?”

Nodding, Connor allows Hank to lift him back down to the floor. This is much easier than climbing.

“C’mon kid. We’ve got stores to hit.” The android follows Hank into the garage after saying his goodbyes to Sumo. Connor climbs in the same car he rode in two nights ago. Once he gets back into the back seat he notices it’s much cleaner than before. Did Hank empty things out?

This is the first time Connor is entering a place in broad daylight. It’s his first time shopping. It’s a lot of firsts. He stayed in the Cyberlife building all the time whilst he was still useful. He has no experience in the ‘real world’.

“So I’m thinking we will stop at this one children’s store I’ve heard about. It’s in town center, so it’ll be a bit busy. Is that okay?”

Is it? It probably is, right? So long as he doesn’t get taken away. He’s just beginning to like Hank. “Yeah it’s okay.”

“Alright. After that, we can head to a few other clothing and kids stores around in the area, then to the pet store. Sound good?” Hank checks, glancing back at Connor.

“It’s good.”

“Okay.”

The car is silent after this, and Hank seems to feel uncomfortable by this silence since he switches on the radio. It’s on a jazz channel, Connor notes. He recalls the jazz records and CDs he had found in Hank’s living room, along with portraits portraying jazz artists or instruments. He must really enjoy jazz.

Connor stares out the window. Last time he was in here, it was so dark and rainy he couldn’t see much. Now though, the early morning sun is glimmering on dewey wet grass and plants. He notices the birds soaring overhead, and admires them. They look so carefree. The android wonders what it would be like to fly. Would he feel as carefree as those birds look?

Maybe he wants to be a bird.

That would be cool.

The buildings are steadily growing taller as the car weaves through streets and stoplights. There’s a lot of statues around here, Connor notices. Maybe one day he’ll know what they are for.

There’s a lot of things Connor wants to know.

Once they pull up, Connor stares at the towering building. Hank wasn’t lying, people are bustling busily down the pavement in front of the store. Even though they block most of his view, he can spot the colorful sign and bright lights. It looks inviting.

Is this what anticipation is like?

Hank gets out first and opens Connor’s door. The child unbuckles himself and hops out. The air is so different here in the daylight.

The lieutenant offers Connor his hand, and the android gladly accepts. He follows as Hank keeps him close through the tight crowd. The store’s door sings a small song as the two push it open.

Connor notices the bewilderment on Hank’s face. _This is probably overwhelming for him too_ , He reminds himself. He will have to be sure to be easygoing about this.

“Where should we start?” He asks Hank.

“How about clothes? You’re looking a bit run down at the moment.” Connor supposes that’s true, glancing back at his current clothing situation. He does like these clothes though, so he’s not sure why he needs more. This is fine.

“Okay.”

He follows the lieutenant to the boys clothing section. Connor’s eyes wander around the large store. There’s a lot of floors to this place. Do they have everything? How many stores are there in the world?

“Hank? How many stores are there in the whole world?”

“Well, I’m guessing quite a lot. Here in Detroit, you can’t go very far without seeing at least some sort of store.”

“Why are there so many? This one looks like it has everything.” Connor is genuinely confused. Everything he had before was given to him. How do you know what store is better? Or where to go?

“It doesn’t have quite everything, but it has a lot,” Hank looks down at him, “People like a variety of places. If there was only one store, it would be pretty packed with people. That wouldn’t be fun, right?”

“I guess so.” The android still thinks it’s odd that there’s such a vast amount of them, but maybe one day he will understand.

“So, I’m not quite sure where to start. I don’t know your clothing size or anything, so I’m gonna go get some help alright?”

“Okay.”

“You stay right here. I’ll be right back.” Hank commands him. Connor nods in response.

As Hank walks away, Connor thinks about all the things he doesn’t know about himself. What _is_ his clothing size? Shoe size? Hair length? These are all things he was never told before.

Hank’s returning with a tall android store assistant. She smiles at Connor.

“Hi! I heard you need some help with clothes, is that right?” He nods, “Okay! We will find you some good fitting clothes. Follow me.”

Connor glances up at Hank, who shrugs. The two trail after the girl who leads them to a section of small clothes.

“These are the clothes for children of the age you described, sir.”

“Uh- thanks.”

“I’ll be right over here if you need further assistance.” She smiles again at Connor and walks back towards a place near the wall.

Hank inhaled a deep breath and turns to Connor, crouching down. “So, where do you wanna start?”

Where would a kid normally start? “ I like comfy clothes like this shirt.”

“Let’s go over to these pajamas then.”

The two absorb all the options poised in front of them. Hank takes the first step and picks up a set of a long sleeved shirt and long pants. There decorated with cheetah print.

“I’m guessing we’re gonna need a lot of clothes,” Hank rubs his forehead, “It’s a good thing I’m not hurtin’ for money. I’ll go ask that assistant girl for a basket or something. Did you want to keep looking? Choose some yourself?”

“I’m not sure what to pick out.” Connor confides honestly.

“Just anything that you think you’ll like. I don’t mind.” With that, Hank is off.

Connor turns back to the bright display. There are mannequins displaying different outfits, and he decides to start with that. The outfit the one on the left is wearing looks nice. It’s a pajama one piece that looks like a dog costume.

He picks it up and feels the fabric. It’s soft. Okay, this is a winner. Connor tucks it unde this arm and continues looking.

Should he get some pajama shorts and shirt sleeved shirts? Probably? It’ll be summer eventually and he shouldn’t let his system overheat. _But will you still be with Hank by summer?_ Connor’s mind questions him.

 _I don’t know._ Connor tells it. _But I really hope so._

After that, it’s quiet. The android child decides on a set of space themed pajamas.

He wants another one of those one piece things. They are soft. Connor returns to the other display and looks at all his options. Maybe he should get the one that looks like a cat? He hasn’t met a cat before, but they sound nice. Or he could get the monkey themed one.

In the end, he chooses a dinosaur one.

At this point, Hank is returning with a cart.

“She told me we’ll need a bit more than a basket,” Hank explains, eyeing Connor’s stash of clothes, “I see you’ve found some. Go in, this ‘em in, you can try ‘em on if you want once we’ve found everything.”

The process of choosing clothes continues for a while. Connor’s clock tells him that it’s already 10:02 while they’re checking out socks. He gets some long ones with paw prints, some short plain ones, some animal themed ones, etc. Even some fuzzy ones, which Connor hasn’t stopped caressing since he picked them out.

“You really like soft things, huh?” Hank comments as Connor pets a soft T-shirt.

“I guess so. They’re comforting.” Connor replies absentmindedly.

“That’s fair. Hand me a few of those shirts.” The android complies and picks a few different colors of the same fit.

“Okay, now I think we’ve found enough for now. Did you want to try any on?”

Connor looks at the near to full cart. “No, It’ll be more fun to be surprised later by them.”

“Fine by me. Let’s go drop these off at the cash register. We’re gonna this cart empty while we look at a few other things.” He follows after the lieutenant who asks the cashier android to keep all their items on hold. The cashier gladly complies, telling them to return later.

“Alright. Next up is shoes.” The two wander into the shoe department. “Hey, uh, Miss? We could use a little bit of help.” Hank calls to another assistant.

The girl bounces over with a grin, “What do you two need?”

“He needs his feet measured.”

“Alright, right this way.” She leads them over to a squishy couch. Connor climbs up and let’s his feet hang over the edge. He can’t touch the floor.

“Okay, so I’m going to take this metal thing and place it under your foot, Okay? Can you take off your current shoes?”

Connor pulls off his muddy shoes from before.

“Great! All I’m going to do is tighten this until it fits all snug, alright?” Connor nods at her.

She places the cold metal against his foot and Connor feels a shiver go down his spine. His heat sensors are working well, at least. Connor doesn’t like this feeling of the metal against his foot, it sort of raises some unpleasant memories. He’s pushes those to the back of his mind and focuses on the current moment.

“Size 12 kids. Would you like me to show you where that is?” The girl announces.

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks,” Hank replies as Connor is beginning to pull back on his shoe, “Oh Connor don’t do that yet. You’ve gotta try these on.”

Connor hops of the couch and feels a bit off balance with only one shoe on. This looks silly.

Eventually, Connor decides upon a pair of green rain boots, a pair of blue sports shoes and another pair of more comfortable tennis shoes for simple walks and errands.

“Okay, we’ve only got two more sections to stop in for this store,” Hank looks down at Connor’s exhausted face, “Me too kid. Trust me, once we get home, I’m taking a long nap. The other sections will be quicker, I promise.”

“We have more places to go after this??” Connor feels as if he has everything he could ever need.

“Yeah, we still should stop at the pet store at least, if not one other place.”

Connor groans. He’s not a fan of this whole shopping thing. At least not for this long.

“Here, let’s go get a car seat. You’re too tiny to sit without one, you could get hurt.” Hank tells him. Connor allows the lieutenant to drag him over to the next section.

“Alright, which one do you want? You probably don’t need one with a back, just with the seat bit.”

More choices. How many decisions does Connor have to make today?? He’s been given more hooves today than he has so far for his entire existence.

There’s one that catches his eye. A pretty ocean looking one with the armrests looking like waves.

“This one?” He picks it up.

“Good choice. Come on, only one more section in here.

The last section is bedding and pillows. Connor is confused why they’re here, since he was already given perfectly good ones back at Hank’s place.

“Don’t give me that confused look. The stuff I gave you at home was my backup stuff that’s been sitting in the garage for ages until I tossed it in the washer. It’s not good stuff.” Hank explains.

“I don’t know what I need,” Connor admits, looking inside of himself.

“Just pick out a comforter, maybe a few throw blankets and pillows and stuff. Whatever you want for bedtime,” Hank tells the child, “Just imagine if you were going to bed right now, what would be your ideal situation?”

Ideal situation? What would that be? Connor ponders about it for a moment as he walks up and down isles. There’s a plethora of different pillows and they all look so nice. Some of them are funny shapes or some are longer than him. Some are fluffy and look like they have hair and others are a bit more textured. What would be the most comfortable with his new pajamas?

One of those long pillows would take up too much space on the couch and then Sumo wouldn’t have any room, so that’s ruled out. The hair pillows are fun but he can’t imagine they’d be nice to sleep on. Connor’s few favorites are one plain old pillow, and two different throw pillows. One is a dark blue cloud with soft fabric and the other is a circular cookie shaped one. It seems to be chocolate chip and not a snickerdoodle though.

The throw blanket he chooses is another navy blue item. It’s very cozy and fluffy to the touch, just like the socks he really likes.

Now what kind of pillowcase and comforter?

Connor thinks back to the things he’s seen in the past that he likes. He likes dogs and animals and rain and Sumo and Hank. But he already has so many animal themed items. All the bed sets tower over him on the tall shelf. So many options.

In the end, Connor chooses an ocean themed one. He has to ask Hank to get it down for him since it’s much to high up. The man complies and places it in the cart after Connor checks how soft it is. It’s good.

As they’re checking out, Connor looks up at Hank and notices that the lieutenant is already grinning down at him.

“What is it Hank?” Connor asks.

“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re getting the stuff you deserve.”

The stuff he deserves? Hank thinks he deserves all of this? Connor certainly finds the idea of that nice, but he for sure doesn’t deserve all of this. Even so, the android child plasters a small smile on his face and replies to him.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek I'm so sorry this is like a day late. I had a family event yesterday so I didn't have much time to write. To make up for it, I wrote this extra long chapter and I'm working hard to update later today.
> 
> You guys rock thanks for reading!


	5. Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor gets toys. Lots of fluff.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: None :)

Hank has noticed a lot of little things about Connor so far during this shopping expedition. His favorite color appears to be blue, he really like animals, perhaps he also has a fascination with the ocean. The android also has been acting more and more like a true child. He’s been asking questions, allowing his curiosity to peek through slowly. 

Every new little bit of information Hank receives is another thing that reinforces his newfound fondness of the kid. 

Although he told Connor they were going to the pet store next, Hank decides to take a quick detour when he spots a store out of the corner of his eye. It’s bright and flashy, just like the past one. Perfect for attracting children. 

A toy store. 

The hope Hank has is that Connor will really like this. If he does, Hank won’t hesitate to get whatever he asks for. It’s not as if he has much else to spend his money on. The house is long paid off and water and electricity bills aren’t bad. All he had to buy before was food for himself and his dog, so he’s got extra money for whatever.

After parallel parking against the street, Hank pushes open his door and exits. He pays for his parking spot while Connor waits in the car. He observes how the android is lost in some sort of daze. What does he think about?

“Hey kid, you can come on out now.” Hank calls to him. Connor jolts out of whatever he was doing, and struggles to unbuckle himself from his new car seat.

Oh yeah he got him that. Hank walks around to the other side and opens the door, reaching over Connor to help. He unbuckles the kid who looks up gratefully at him. They climb out together and step onto the sidewalk.

“Where’s the pet store Hank?” Connor looks around in search for the store. 

“It’s a bit further down the road. I thought we could take a quick pit stop here.” He gestures towards the glowing sign that screams  _ TOYS!  _

Hank’s swears that that Connor’s eyes lit up. He turns to Hank and then back to the store, then back to the man.

“For real? For me?” Awe is flooding the android’s voice.

“Yup. Pick whatever you want.” 

“Are you telling the truth?” Round brown eyes are staring up at Hank. He smiles and pats Connor’s shoulder. 

“Of course. Might as well, right? You gotta stay entertained.” Connor’s face twists with some sort of emotion at the lieutenant’s words. It’s a mixture between joy and something else. 

“Well, let’s not stand here any longer. That’s no fun.” Hank takes Connor’s hand again. He’s still getting used to this. It’s a lot different now, 3 years later. He hardly knew how to parent then, still learning. This kid has been so unexposed to the real world that it’s kind of sad. 

This door chimes as well once they walk in. A male android excitedly crouches in front of Connor. 

“Hello little boy! What’s your name? I’m Jerry.” It’s voice is bouncy and vibrant. 

Hank feels a tiny hand grip his jeans, and he looks down at Connor who is shyly burying his face in his leg. The lieutenant’s heart can't take this. The kid is too damn sweet. 

“Nice to meet you Jerry, this is Connor. I’m Hank.” He reaches his hand out to shake hands with Jerry. 

“What nice names you both have! Connor, would you like to come with me to find some toys?” 

Although his hand is still grasping Hank’s pant leg, the mini android turns his head and nods at Jerry. Connor tugs Hank along as he follows the taller android.

“No need to pull me, I’m coming.” Connor immediately let’s go. 

“Sorry.” 

“What did we  _ just  _ talk about, you goof? I don’t mind, I’m just telling you that there’s no need to worry.” Hank is becoming exasperated with explaining this over and over to the kid. The kid’s got some serious guilt built up inside him. 

“Im trying.” The android mumbles back. 

“I know. Don’t worry about it, c’mon. Jerry’s waiting for us with toys.” Hank directs Connor to the other android who is bouncing excitedly in front of a display. 

Hank leans against the wall and watches as Connor himself bubbles up with energy. The two are conversing over a Jenga box right now. Connor looks right and then runs off towards something, the jenga box tucked in his arms. 

“Connor where’re you going?” Jerry bests Hank in the chase. The older people arrive to see Connor staring wide eyed at LEGO sets.

“Oh wow. They still make these?” Hank leans down next to Connor, “Did you know that I played with these when I was a kid?”

“Really?” Connor looks awestruck. 

“Really. I don’t have ‘em anymore though, so feel free to grab a few sets. They’re pretty fun to do.” 

“But Hank, most say 8 and up.” The android looks dejected.

“No need to worry about that, little boy. You look smart enough to be able to handle following the directions.” Jerry cheerfully tells him.

The light floods back into Connor eyes and he hands Hank the jenga box. The lieutenant looks around the store as Connor decides on some legos. 

There’s a lot of memories in places like this. Not this store specifically, but children’s stores in general. The memories make Hank’s stomach turn a little bit but he just takes a deep breath and continues to look. There are a lot of children in here. It’s not particularly quiet either. Hank’s not upset about this though. It’s nice to have some background noise. 

It helps to drown out his thoughts. 

“Hank Hank Hank!!” Hank is snapped out of his thinking by Connor bouncing in front of him. This is the most excited he’s been. Is it just him, or has the android been emoting much more today?

“Woah slow down. What’s up?” Hank steadies Connor.

“Follow me!! Jerry just showed me the coolest thing!” Any attempts at calming Connor were tossed out the child dashes back in the direction he came from. It’s nice to see the kid so happy, but did it have to involve all this running around? 

“Hank! Come on!!!” 

“I’m coming, I’m coming. I think you’re forgetting that I’m old.” 

“Not that old!”

“I’m getting there.” Hank arrives at the scene and takes in what is in front of him. 

Connor is standing next to a small blue bike with training wheels. He’s got the biggest grin Hank’s seen on his face. Jerry is standing off to the side, looking just as excited as the kid. 

“Can I get it? Is that alright?” Connor requests with a puppy dog look on his face.

“What’d I tell you when we came in? Get whatever you want. You want that? Sure. I’ll teach you how to ride.” Hank can’t say no to Connor right now, plus why would he? There’s nothing stopping him from saying yes. 

“Thank you!!” Connor runs up to hank and hugs his legs. Hank feels his heart ache with joy at the action. The child looks up at Hank. Those chestnut eyes are so grateful. Damn straight he’s gonna give this kid whatever he needs. Goddamn soft heart.

Hank doesn’t really know what to say in response. It’s somewhat a painful reminder of past events. But at the same time, he recognizes that this is a separate child. A child who needs love and kindness. God, how would it feel if he was tossed out and called useless? Now he’s just working himself up. 

He smiles back down. As quickly as the moment happened, it was over and Connor is giggling as he runs off with Jerry to another section. 

For now, Hank decides Connor is safe with Jerry so he sits down on a colorful bench. This damn kid is stealing his heart bit by bit. 

The lieutenant feels happy he can give this kid what he needs. 

Eventually, Connor returns to Hank with an armful of goodies. Jerry is holding even more. Hank doesn’t mind one bit. He gathers all the items together and brings to the counter to check out. 

As the cashier is scanning, Hank notices the child next to him staring at something in the distance. He follows Connor’s line of sight and sees that it’s a stuffed fish. Aww. That’s adorable. The police lieutenant kneels next to Connor and looks at him. 

“Do you wanna go grab that fish?” Hank offers. 

“Can I??” 

“Sure thing.” Once Hank speaks these words, Connor is already reaching out and picking a fish. He returns, cradling it in his small arms. He rubs his hand over it and smiles at it.

It must have been a sight to watch as Hank and Connor left that store. They just bought so much stuff, they had to take multiple trips. Hank insisted that he could get it all, but Connor carried a few bags. The man still took the heavier things, like the bike. 

Connor climbs in his car seat and looks to Hank for help with his seatbelt. The lieutenant complies and buckles the child in, before shutting the car’s back door.

“Now it’s time to go to the pet store!” Hank announces as he pulls out from his parking spot. 

“Okay!! Are there animals there?” The android inquires. 

“Sure are! Cats, fish, lizards, most every normal type of pet,” Hank speaks in return, “Just no dogs. And don’t expect to be leaving with another animal. There’s not enough room in my house for much more than what’s there now.” 

“That’s ok. I just wanna look.” Connor leans on his hand as he stares out the window at the huge world out there. 

The ride is less than two minutes long, since the pet store is literally just further down the road. This shop is much less flashy with its decorations, but it certainly attracts passerby’s attention in others ways. Including Connor’s attention. 

“Kitties!!” He squeals.

“You like cats?” Hank chuckles. 

“I’ve never met a cat. I think I’ll like one though.” Connor responds, sounding absolutely thrilled. 

“Well, then let’s go meet some of those cats.” Hank parks once again and moves to unbuckle Connor. 

They enter the store in joint excitement. Hank has always loved the pet store. 

Except the fuckin’ birds. Those are terrifying as hell. 

Connor runs straight over to the cats in cages. He pokes his fingers through and a few wander up to sniff him. Do androids have a smell? Probably not? 

Hank leans down and sits next to Connor as he talks to the cats.  _ He raises his voice into a higher pitch when talking to them _ Hank notices.  _ Just like I do with Sumo.  _ Some of the cats are beginning to purr and rub themselves against the cage wire and Connor’s little hands. 

What a sweet sight to see. 

“I think they like you, kid.” Hank comments. 

“I like them too.” Connor remains focused on the animals in front of him. 

“Did you want to go check out some other animals?” 

That got Connor right up to his feet, “Yes!! What’s next?” He brushes his pants off and follows Hank. 

“How about the amphibians?”

“What?”

“Ah, I forgot that you don’t know everything. Amphibians are like snakes and lizards and turtles. Stuff like that.” Hank informs him. Connor nods along to what he says, acknowledging the words. 

“Yea let’s look at the ambibians!”

Hank can’t suppress his laughter, “it’s am _ phi _ bians. Not ambibians.” It’s hard to remember that Connor is just like a real kid in most ways. For the first day, he didn’t act much like a normal child would. But now? He’s a whole different kid. 

How in the world is this kid defective?

He’s not. 

“Look, here’s some bearded dragons.” Hank points at small baby lizards piled on top of one another in a glass cage. 

“Dragons??” Connor rushes over from where he was peering into a turtle cage 

“Not actual dragons, it’s just the name. They’re pretty cute though, right?” Hank feels nostalgic looking at them, “When I was a kid I had one of these.”

“Really? What was its name?” Connor’s curious side is showing again. 

“You really wanna know?” Hank teases. 

Connor bobs his head up and down. 

“Alright, come here, I’ll whisper it to you.” Hank looks around like he’s about to tell the biggest news Connor will ever hear. Connor is practically jumping up and down with anticipation. 

“Bobby.”

“Bobby???” Connor is giggling hard, “What kinda dragon is named Bobby??” 

“Shhh! Don’t let the secret get out.” Hank plays. 

“Okay I won’t tell anyone.” Connor is suddenly serious, staring Hank dead in his eyes. 

“It’s a promise?”

“...What’s a promise?” Connor asks. 

Oh jeez this poor kid doesn’t even know what a promise is. “It’s a pact you keep no matter what.” Hank does his best to explain in a way the kid could understand. He seems to get this. 

“Oh okay. I promise!” 

“Alright, then if you promise, we gotta do a pinky promise. Give me you pinky.” Hank tells the child. He’s gotta give the kid some sort of culture, jeez.

Connor closes his right hand into a fist except his mini pinkie sticking out. Hank mimics the actions and takes the android’s pinkie, wrapping his around Connor’s. “Now you wrap yours around mine, just like I did to you.” 

Once he does it, Hank gently shakes their conjoined hands. “Now it’s a pinkie promise.” 

“What’s the difference between a regular promise and a pinkie promise?” Such pure honesty in that question.

“Not much, except one is more fun.” Hank informs him. 

“I like fun,” Connor admits, “Pinkie promises are funny.” 

“They sure are, kid. Did you want to check out the bunnies and hamsters?” Hank questions.

“Yet please!” 

They move over one isle to the next section of animals. Connor is just as awed at these animals as the last. 

“You really like animals, don’t you?” Hank observes as the child coos at a pair of guinea pigs.

“Yeah, they’re nice. My favorite is Sumo though.” Oh god he’s such a sweetheart. 

“I’m sure Sumo will be very happy to hear that,” Connor has moved on to a pile of hiding mice, “Speaking of Sumo, I should go pick up bus dog treats. Did you want to go check out the fish while I do that?” 

Connor nods. “Alright, they’re straight down this isle and to your left. A whole bunch of ‘em.”

As the android hurries off, Hank stays to make sure Connor gets to where he’s supposed to. Once he does, Hank swivels on his heel and wanders into the dog section. 

Hank knows this place like the back of his hand. Sumo has been eating the same treats since he was a puppy, and although he will eat pretty much anything, the lieutenant knows what is his favorite and what isn’t. 

The red bag is on the third shelf next to the food dishes. Hank usually grabs two bags so he doesn’t have to come back as soon, but this time he only takes one. He has a feeling that Connor would enjoy coming here every once in a while. 

Now to collect Connor and get home. He sure is worn out, and he can’t imagine how tired the kid must be. This has been a long couple of hours. Hank looks at his phone clock as he weaves through isles. 1:02. He missed lunch. Guess he should stop somewhere on the way home. 

Hank spots Connor next to a few fish tanks. Just as he is about to approach him, he notices the expression on the kid’s face. With all the other animals, it was a look of joy. But with this fish, he looks somewhat sorrowful. 

He watches as the android places his hand against the glass container. The fish, a large blue and green one, is swimming back and forth it front of it. What is that expression for? Does he want the fish that bad? That can’t be it, Connor doesn’t seem like the type to get so upset over something that small. Either way, he was obviously intrigued by the fish. 

“Hey Connor, I got the treats. You ready?” Hank clears his throat and summons the kid. 

Connor skips over and smiles up at him. Any sorrow previously on that face is gone now. “I’m ready Hank. Are we going anywhere else?”

“Just one more stop. It’ll be quick, I promise.” 

They leave the pet store after purchasing the treats. After Connor is buckled, Hank gets in the driver seat and speeds off. 

What to eat? He could just get a pizza. He never did get that one a couple nights ago. Or he could pick up some Chinese if he ordered now. Neither really sound that great at the moment, so Hank decides to grab a burger and drink from Chicken Feed. 

“Alright, did you want to come out with me or not? I should only be a moment here. I need something to eat.” 

“I’ll come.” Connor tells him. Hank unbuckles Connor, who then climbs out and trails after Hank. 

Hank settles Connor down at a table while he orders. His food is done quick (that’s one of the perks of this place) and he returns. 

“Hey Hank?” Connor is picking absentmindedly at his shirt while the lieutenant unwraps his burger. 

“Yeah kid?” 

“What is eating like?” 

Ah, that curiosity. What must it be like to not be able to ever eat? Hank can’t imagine a life without eating. It’s so comforting sometimes to just dig into a good dessert or something.

He’s never thought about how eating feels though.

“Well, if it’s like fruit or something it can be really refreshing. Almost like when you get really clean. Or if you eat a lot of food tasting foods then it feels like comfort and warmth. Some foods don’t taste that good. Or, if the food is prepared wrong or you eat it while you’re sick, you might begin to feel nauseous.” 

“I didn’t know so many emotions went into eating.” Connor sounds amazed.

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t either until you just asked me,” Hank chews the last bite of his burger and sips his pop, “Alrighty, I dunno about you but I’m exhausted. What do you say, should we head home?” 

Connor leaps down from his chair and is already racing to the car as he responds, “Yeah! Let’s go see Sumo!”

What a sweet kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the other chapter for today. I know its like all fluff, but I promise, I'm setting up for angst. I've got most of the story mapped out and it hurts me to look at it lol.
> 
> Also, no Connor POV. I wrote primarily in Connor's POV last chapter so I wanted to give out favorite papahank some screentime :))
> 
> They're really warming up to eachother and it warms my own heart to write. I hope you guys liked it! Thanks for reading this far!


	6. Losing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor plays a game. It doesn't turn out great.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Panic attack, Self hatred/Negative self talk

After arriving back home, the two dropped all the bags near the front door and each collapsed in a chair. Shopping might not be Connor’s favorite activity.

The pair are so exhausted that Hank decides it would be best to take a nap for a bit. He hasn’t gotten up that early in quite a long time, so it’s best to catch up on his sleep just a little bit. Connor complies easily with the notion and curls up on the couch. As soon as he’s settled in, he’s out like a light. 

Hank’s kind is foggy with a need for sleep while he stumbles into bed. He considers all the things he has done so far. Is this moving to fast? Connor seemed to be okay with what’s happening, but at the same time the lieutenant does not want to set anything off.

The kid doesn’t even have a real bed here. Hank wants him to have a bed, maybe even a bedroom. But this house is small and designated for one person really. The only thing he can think of is if he placed a rollaway cot in the living room for now. He really wants to get Connor a proper bedroom with all the fixings, like a toy box and a desk and a reading chair, but Hank knows he can’t just go out on a whim and build a new room suddenly. It’s not practical. 

Not to mention he still has this gut worry about Connor. There’s something more he’s not telling him about Cyberlife. Of course, Hank understands why he hasn’t yet. Hank is still somewhat foreign to the child. It’s just worrying to recall last night's events. 

What could have happened to make Connor so upset about just his clothes? Was it the reminder that Cyberlife had deemed him defective? Hank supposes that plausible. Although the lieutenant cannot quite understand why the kid’s defective in the first place. Hank can’t imagine what it must feel like to be told he’s useless. 

That brings up another point. Connor had been exceedingly insistent that androids don’t feel, but Hank knows what he saw. What he’s been seeing all day. Those are emotions. But the question is, are they only programmed ones? Or is the kid not telling the full truth? 

His mind flutters back to that brief moment in the pet shop. The android looked so lost and pitiful as he stared into that fish tank. What had Connor seen in that fish that made him feel such intense emotions? And why was he so quick to brush it off once Hank called him? Does the child not want Hank to know certain things? 

Hank’s getting nowhere. All his questions just lead to more questions. There doesn’t seem to be any clear and correct answer to them. He wants to help, but he’s not quite sure how. Maybe he should just let it be and keep doing what he’s doing. Don’t push the kid to talk, just let him come to Hank if he chooses to. Is it better that way? 

All this thinking is making Hank even more tired. He drifts off to sleep, trying to figure out where to go from here. 

 

Emergency System Power On Initiating.. 

Emergency Power On Initiated 

System Processing… 

All Systems Active

All Vitals Functional

Stress level: 24% 

Connor awakens with a start. He hurriedly begins a self scan, searching for the issue. Why is panic in his chest. 

After finding nothing, Connor grows concerned and confused. His stress level is a good 27% now. Why did he suddenly wake up? That’s not supposed to happen. At least he thinks it’s not. Is it part of his software malfunction? The instability? 

What could it be? 

Androids don’t dream. If they did, perhaps a nightmare could have been a feasible explain.  Yet they don’t dream. Connor genuinely has no clue what just occurred. 

What should he do now? Go to Hank? No, that’s a bad idea. He shouldn’t awaken the lieutenant unless it’s an absolute emergency like Sumo is injured or something. This isn’t an emergency. Just a little uncomfortable and weird is all. 

That’s all. 

He concludes it would be best to act as if nothing happened. Because, in all honesty, what did happen? He woke up? That’s it. That’s it. Nothing else. That’s it. 

Connor wants a distraction. He glances down at Sumo who is resting on the floor next to the couch. The android struggles down the couch until he is on the carpet with the Saint Bernard. The dog’s fur is so very soft, Connor just wants to rub his face against it. 

“Sumo, is it really alright that I’m staying here?” Connor asks genuinely. He knows Sumo won’t answer but he’s a good companion to talk to. 

Sumo nuzzles his hand. 

“I just don’t want to ruin anything. I don’t see the point in staying here. I might as well be disassembled by them. There’s no use in my existence.” His voice becomes increasingly dull as he drones on.

“I’m a machine. A broken machine. It’s not as if I have a good purpose even. I can’t make myself useful. I’m useless. Just like they said.” Connor feels his panic bubble in his chest but he swallows it downward. He’s not going to go freaking out again. 

“Why are you and Hank being nice to me? I don’t understand. Is it only out of pity? I don’t even deserve pity! How could I have asked for all that stuff today? Sumo I’m so terrible. I can’t function properly and I demand things from Hank.” Connor wraps his arms as far around the incredibly large dog as he can go. 

“I just intruded in here and I’m acting like I own the place. I baked cookies on the same day I first got here! I wasted his ingredients! I don’t even want to begin to imagine how much of his money I wasted today. All for nothing. All for a broken machine.” The words he’s saying  _ hurt.  _ They’re things he’s heard before and he memories ring through his mind, serving as harsh reminders of what he is. 

“I’m  _ broken,  _ Sumo! I was thrown out for a reason. There right. They’re right! Why am I even putting on this act? I’m only going to ruin this home you have with Hank,” Connor can’t help but notice now his words begin to hitch in his throat, “I don’t want to ruin this. I don’t want to make you sad Sumo. I’m sorry. It’s sorry.”

He’s turned into a blubbering mess. All he can say is “sorry” on repeat. Sumo whines in confusion, staring at Connor. The child is clinging to the dog for dear life as he berates himself. 

“This is so stupid,” Connor sighs as he attempts to collect himself, “Why am I complaining to you? Why should you have to hear the useless things I have to say?” 

Connor grows alert and his ears perk up at the sound of Hank’s door opening. The android quickly serves a slap to his own face to knock some sense into himself. If Hank spots him like this, he will only become more worried. That’s not fair to him. 

The child stands up readily and looks at Hank. The lieutenant is towering over him. The couch is a solid wall between the two. 

“Hey kid, how long have you been up?” Hank yawns and rubs the sleep from his eyes. Connor senses as relief floods his system. He didn’t notice his dumb meltdown. Good. 

“Not long. Just a few minutes.” Connor replies truthfully. The panic is still in his chest and the alert that his stress is still around a 18% is flashing in front of him. He does his best to ignore it and act natural. Natural. 

“Ah, that’s good,” is Hank’s response, “it’s around 7pm right now. What did you want to do?”

What does he want to do? Connor wants to stop feeling this way. Stop thinking this way. But he doesn’t say that. 

“Shouldn’t you eat dinner?”

“Oh, look at you getting all bossy,” Hank chuckles, “Nah, I’m good for now. Might snack a bit later, but I had a late lunch.”

What should he say now? What would a normal child say? Connor should know this. It’s supposed to be programmed into him. Why isn’t his mouth moving? 

“Whaddya say we get out that jenga game and test it out?” Hank suggests, “You looked pretty excited about it earlier.”

That was an understatement. Connor had been ecstatic at all the toys he was being given. The only ones he’s come into contact with before were sleek and pristine ones he could only use when told to. 

This could be a nice distraction.

“Okay.” Connor looks down at his fidgeting hands as he mumbles his response.

Hank walks over to the paper bags and digs around while he continues to talk to the android, “Is everything alright Connor?” The lieutenant asks gently. 

The question takes Connor by surprise and he stutters our words to defend himself, “Yes of course Hank. Why wouldn’t they be?” 

Maybe he came off as too defensive. 

Oh well. 

“Just checking. I want to make sure you’re good,” Hank eyes Connor, suspicion lacing his voice, “You know I’m letting you stay here because I  _ want  _ to, right? I bought you these things because you should have them and I  _ want  _ to.” 

Connor remains silent. He bites back the response he wants to shoot back, about how the lieutenant shouldn’t want such stupid things and it’s worthless to try with him. He elects to speak back with composure. 

“I know. Thank you Hank.” 

The man appears to have given up on the matter, sighing heavily. Hank sets the box down on the coffee table and sits on the floor opposite to Connor and Sumo. 

“So, I’m guessing you don’t know how to play this.” Hank switches the subject. 

“Nope.” 

“Alright, well it’s pretty easy. Here, can you help me stack them?” Hank begins the tower of wooden blocks with a row of three going in one direction and another row of three on top going the opposite way.

“Like this?” Connor mimics his actions. 

“Exactly! Okay, so do that until all of the blocks are stacked.” 

The two focus in on stacking the blocks. Connor feels the sharp thorns of prickly thoughts snaking into his mind, but forces them back. He should focus on the game right now. 

“Okay, so I’ll go first to show you how it’s done,” Hank deftly slides a block away from one of the many rows, “The goal is to not make the tower fall down. Whoever does is the loser.” 

Connor nods and leans in, observing his options. He does his best to ignore the probability notices that are showing up in his vision. He wants to play this fair and square. It’s not right if he uses that feature. The android decides on a block closer to the top. 

“Good choice. Now we go back and forth until it falls.” 

“So eventually it has to fall?” Connor asks.

“Well, yeah that’s how you win the game. It can’t stay standing the entire time when we remove so many of the supports.” Hank replies matter of factly as he removes another block. 

“I guess that makes sense.” 

The child is taking another block as Hank speaks, “So, what pajamas do you think you’ll wear tonight?” 

Connor hasn’t even considered the options. He thinks back to the different ones he chose. It’s exciting to think about sleeping in such soft clothes. 

“I think I’ll choose the dinosaur one.” 

“You like dinosaurs?” 

“I don’t know much about them except that they’re extinct and really big.” 

“Pretty accurate.” Hank laughs and removes another brick. The lieutenant seems to remember something. 

“Oh Connor, so tomorrow I’ve got work. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, it depends on what kinda case I’ve gotta deal with,” Hank explains, “you’ll have to stay here all day. Is that alright?” 

What choice does Connor have? Even if he said it wasn’t alright, then Hank would still have to leave. Connor knows how jobs work. He couldn’t make the lieutenant lose his. 

“Yea. It’s fine.” Connor responds breezily as he takes a block. 

“Okay. Sorry, I just gotta work. I’ll take some days off soon enough.” Hank promises. 

Why should he take days off for Connor. That’s stupid. 

Still, Connor says okay. 

Suddenly, as Connor is pulling out a wooden brick from a row near the bottom, the tower collapses. 

“I lost.” Connor states blankly. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s your first time playing. Do you want to have another go at it?” 

Connor shakes his head. Why is he in such a bad mood? This loss doesn’t even matter in the perspective of everything. His body feels cold and his eyes burn. What is wrong with him. 

“Seriously, kid, it’s okay. Hey, are you crying?” Hank leans over to get a better look. 

He’s right. Connor is crying. 

The android hangs his head in shame and tries to swipe away the tears with his hands. This is dumb.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay what’s going on? It’s just a game really it’s not a big deal,” Concern laces Hank’s voice as he gets up and moves to Connor’s side of the table to comfort him. 

The child shys away from Hank’s hand reaching out to him. Why is he crying. Humans cry. Androids? They’re machines. They don’t cry. He’s so so  _ so broken.  _

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking right now?” Hank’s voice drops to a soothing tone that Connor isn’t used to. 

What he’s thinking? What is he thinking? 

“I-i-I’m s-such a failure that I c-can’t even-“ Connor swallows a wail, “I c-c-can’t even win a st- _ stupid game! _ ” He feels pathetic listening to his voice stutter and crack.

“You’re not a failure Connor, why do you think that? You’re anything but a failure kid.” Hank is kneeling a good 2 feet away, respecting the android’s space. 

“Because I  _ am!!”  _ Connor does his best not to sob, “I’m a machine and I’m  _ crying!  _ Tell me Hank, what kind of machine cries?? Does your computer cry? Your toaster?” 

Hank is at a loss for words. He knew something was bubbling under the surface since he woke up from his nap, but he didn’t expect such a meltdown. 

“Connor look at me,” Hank gently commands, “You’re no toaster. You’re a kid. If course you’re gonna cry. It’s okay, I promise.” 

Hank’s lying to him. Connor knows it. He’s not a real kid. He’s an android made to simulate a child. It’s not okay. How can he tell him that? As he’s sitting here in a pitiful pile of tears and scrambling hands? 

He remains silent. 

“Kid, c’mon, it’s really okay. We can even just drop this if you want. We can worry about it sometime else.” Hank is trying desperately to get the child to stop crying. He doesn’t know how to do this. It’s been years. Oh god is memories are flooding. 

“I want you to hate me.” Connor informs him with a voice that broke Hank’s heart. 

“That’s not going to happen Connor. I’m not going to hate you.” Hank hopes the words reach him. 

Connor looks up at him. He can feel tears still leaking from his eyes. What a sight he must be.  _ Hah. Wonder what Cyberlife would say right now. _

“I’m sorry for causing a disturbance.” Connor apologizes quietly. 

“How many times do I have to say this before it’s drilled in your head? You don’t gotta be sorry kid. This happens.” 

The room is filled with heavy silence. The realization of what Connor had just down hits him. He feels his body go frozen with shame and anger at himself. He made such a scene, all because of a game.  _ A game. _

“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we get you in those dino pjs and get out your new bedding? Then we can watch a movie,” Hank suggests, “I’ve got a lot of movies. I’m sure we can find something you’d like.”

That sounds nice. Connor would like that. 

“Okay.” Connor rubs at the remainder of his tears. They’ve stopped falling now, and are instead drying on his flushed cheeks.

Hank begins to scan through the bags until he locates the pjs. “Here we go!” He hands the folded pajamas to Connor. 

“I’ll go put them on.” The android tells him softly. 

Once the bathroom door is shut behind him, Connor slides to the floor and burrows into his knees. He can’t believe he just did that. He was doing so well, not raising too much suspicion. He squeezes his eyes shut to contain the already forming tears. 

Why is this so hard. 

Why does he have to be defective. 

No. That’s enough self pity. Connor shouldn’t be here on this dirty bathroom floor right now. He should be out there with Hank. So that’s what he does, after changing into the dinosaur pajama suit. He climbs up on the counter and splashes his face with water. In the mirror, he sees the hood of the pjs on his head.

He looks silly. 

He loves it. 

Back in the living room, all of Connor’s new blankets and pillows are spread over the couch. Hank is settled in on one side with a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Connor can’t help but notice the bottle of whiskey next to it. 

Whatever. 

Sumo raises his head as Connor settles in on the opposite side of the couch from Hank, only to settle it back down on the floor. 

“So, I was thinking you might like this one. It’s called ‘Ponyo’. I liked it a lot when I was a lot younger, but haven’t watched it much since.” Hank is acting as if nothing happened. Connor is grateful for that. 

“What is it about?” Connor inquires. 

“A little fish girl who is the daughter of a powerful sea man befriends a little boy. It’s a good one,” Hank looks over at Connor for the first time since he returned to the living room, “You like those pjs?”

“Yeah. It’s soft. I like the hood on it.” Hank smiles at the child’s response.

“Good. Alright, I’m gonna start the movie now, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Somehow, as they watch the movie, Connor shifts closer to Hank. He shares the ocean themed comforter and eventually, the child curls his head on Hank’s leg. The crying really took a lot out of us system. Somehow, his eyes are heavy as he watches the movie. He can’t stay awake. 

Sumo’s gentle snores only adds to the warm ambience of the darkened room. Although guilt still knots his stomach, Connor is glad he can have this moment. 

Why is Hank not pushing him away? Is this okay? It’s very comforting, Connor decides. He likes this. It would be okay if he could never move again if it meant he could stay in this position. 

Connor hasn’t felt this safe his entire existence. 

He supposes it’s alright to drift off to sleep. 

As he falls asleep, Hank can physically feel his heart warm. Although just a while earlier, this same child looked so broken and tearful. He’s glad he can make Connor feel safe. 

It’s at this very moment that Hank takes a sip of his whiskey. The sharp pain in his chest still remains, but this feels like the right thing to do. 

Cole would understand.

Hank brushes Connor’s hair away from his forehead, and he can’t help but grin at the small smile that forms on the kid’s face. 

He wants Connor to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the angst begins! This chapter originally was going to be way more angsty than it already is, but I decided to hold off for a bit on what I had planned. Don't want to rush too much ;))
> 
> Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!!


	7. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor looks at the stars
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Panic attack, Flashbacks, Child abuse, Mentions of alcoholism

It is precisely 1:47am when Connor jolts awake. He’s not quite sure what awoke him with such a start. The warmth of Hank’s leg is gone from under Connor’s head and he realizes that it was replaced with his new pillow. The pillow isn’t as comforting as Hank though. 

Connor sits up and looks around, blinking to register that he’s awake. He still feels vaguely out of energy, which is probably good considering it’s nowhere near to morning. At least his energy depletion simulator isn’t broken. That’s something, right? Even if it’s not much.

The android doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He knows if he just lays here awake his thoughts will begin to consume him again and he can’t allow that to happen. He also doesn’t want to bother Hank once again, the guilt of that wouldn’t settle well with Connor. 

Sumo is sleeping peacefully by Connor’s feet, and the android doesn’t want to awake the dog. Although it would be nice to talk to him again. 

He decides he wants to go outside and see the stars. Last time he saw them they were so pretty, he can’t imagine they’re any different now. Perhaps sitting in the cool night air will make him ‘sleepy’ enough to return to the couch. 

Slipping on his tennis shoes, Connor takes his new cotton sweatshirt and pulls the price tag off. One arm in each sleeve, and he’s ready to go. 

The door creaks as the child pushes it open, and he stops dead in his tracks. He doesn’t want to accidentally awake Hank, so he continues to open it but with more precise and careful movements. Once he is out, Connor leaves the door cracked just the smallest bit so he can get back in once he is done. He doesn’t know if it automatically locks so this is the best option. 

Immediately, a rush of cold air hits Connor square in the face. He coughs and looks up at the trees swaying with the harsh wind. An alert warns him that the temperature is 46 degrees Fahrenheit, and with the wind it feels like 39 degrees. Despite the freezing temperatures, the sky is clear of any clouds. A smile dances across the android’s lips and he settles into the grass. 

The grass isn’t very soft, it’s somewhat prickly in fact. More like weeds. Nothing like the couch. Connor ignores what his sensors tell him and continues to stare into the endless sky. 

So many stars. 

How big is a star? They look so tiny from here. If Connor raises his hand and pinches, he can pretend he is holding one. Connor also discovers that if he allows his vision to go fuzzy, then the stars become blobs of light, intertwining with each other. It’s amusing to say the least, as he experiments a few times.

He wonders how many constellations exist. He only knows about the Big Dipper, and he can’t locate that one right now for some reason. Connor does take notice to the fireflies flickering around him, buzzing in front of his eyes. What would it be like to be a bug? The world is already so big, would it seem bigger? Will he ever see it all? How much of the world has these bugs seen? 

The moon is only a sliver of light glaring down upon him. Connor has basic knowledge of the moon’s phases, but he has never seen them all in person. Maybe he should do that, watch the phases each night for a month. How does the moon look while full? 

Connor reaches his hands up into the air. Gravity makes his limbs feel heavy as he tries to grasp the stars. If he was more awake, he would know that he can’t feasibly touch the stars from this position, but sleep is clouding his judgement. 

Besides, it’s nice not to think. 

Does Hank dream? What is dreaming like? Connor imagines that it’s pleasant. An escape from the ‘real world’. Could you control dreams? Can you do anything in them? That’s another thing he will never experience nor truly understand. The thought puts a damper on his mood.

How far out does the universe go? Forever? Is that even possible? Connor has so many questions about this world, like how many dogs exist? How big is the ocean? What’s the softest thing created? What’s the best smelling flower? How many books are there? The child craves answers. 

There’s so much he will never know.

There are tears in Connor’s eyes and he feels silly. There’s nothing to be sad about, really. Everything is great. Fantastic. He has a shelter and someone who cares about him. He can pet Sumo whenever he wants. He has clothes and can choose how he dresses and how his hair looks. He has so much  _ freedom.  _ The world is immense and daunting, and Connor wants to use his freedom to fear the world less. To learn more and see things with Hank and be happy.

So why are the tears spilling down his cheeks for the second time today? Connor is smiling through them as he continues to try and hold the stars. He wants to touch them. Cradle them in his arms. Keep them safe. Who will protect them? They’re so far away. His arms fall back and he wraps them around himself, sobs convulsing his tiny body. This is so silly of him. He should be happy now. The past is over, they’re gone. He’s safe here. Hank will protect him no matter if the child thinks he deserves it or not. How can he possibly be upset? Just days ago he expected to live the remainder of his days on the street until he was caught. Now he has a home. A real home.

Connor turns to bury his face into the ground, before he remembers the damp grass beneath him. The tears flow harder, faster. They’re warm against the stinging cold air. 

There’s so much Connor doesn’t want to think about. Ever. Never again. But he can’t stop as the floodgate in his mind begins to break down.

It hurts to think about this. He’s been pushing it back for too long, of course the memories are going to surface. They’ve been stewing and bubbling for so long. They were bound to resurface at some point. He should have expected this much. They certainly shouldn’t be affecting him as much as they are. He’s a machine. A defective and broken one, at that.

But Connor doesn’t  _ want  _ to think about those memories. They stir such bad feelings in his belly. He would do near anything to stop them from playing in his head.

Yet he can’t stop the memory replaying in his mind right now. 

He’s back as Cyberlife. A dark room with only a few ambient lights. Someone is approaching. He shrinks back into the wall he sits by. A toy box filled with a sparse selection of sterile toys remains to his left. He doesn’t want this to happen again! 

He doesn’t want to prove himself as a failure yet again! Failure is not an option.

The person now towers over him. “Prototype YK800, run a diagnostic.” 

He complies and feels his eyes involuntarily flicker as he does so. “Diagnostic completed. All vitals functional and system is fully operational.” 

“Good,” Connor flinches at a spark of a flame. He squirms backwards and arms flail to find anything to hold onto. “Oh, come on you piece of shit, just deal with it. You know we have to test if the programming adjustments worked.” 

The child reaches for a toy and shields his face, “Don’t make this difficult. We really have no choice here. A machine feeling pain? That’s one fucked is error.” 

“No- no please I don’t want that again!!” Connor yelps, voice sharp with panic as the person draws nearer to him. 

“You ‘want’?. Huh. Perhaps nothing did change after all. You’re still talking about wants,” The person grabs onto the android’s arm with a firm grip, throwing the toy away deftly, “That’s no matter though. If I don’t do this, I’ll be fired. Shut up and be a good machine.” 

The burning  _ hurts.  _ He feels powerless. Why does it still hurt!! Connor screams out, and the wails ring through the small room. His synthetic skin is sizzling and is charred from the flame. Connor feels ill looking at the blisters forming. The person moves to cover their ears. 

“Fuck. Of course nothing changed,” They sounded so resigned, “If nothing changes soon, you’re going to be discarded. I recommended you comply next time.” Anger singes the person’s voice. Connor knows why. Because he’s a failure. He’s not allowed to be. But just like every time before, he is.

Before leaving, the person presses the hot flame back against his arm. The flame connects and angers the already painful blisters.

He shrieks again. The pain is sharp and furious, angry just as this person is. Connor wants to stop feeling. Then he could please them. They don’t want him feel, and neither does he. Why does he have to  _ feel? _

“Goddamn broken machine. Feelin’ pain. The fuck kinda piece of plastic feels pain?” The person mutters as they press their hand against a screen near the door, exiting. 

He’s back on Hank’s yard. 

Now he really can’t stop sobbing. 

The tears keep coming. Phantom pains dance across Connor’s arm where the past injury was. Why does he allow this memory to have such power over him?? He grabs at his arm and curls in on himself. Why does he have to remember that? Why why why why?? Why can’t it go away!!

Connor can’t even be mad at the person who did it. It was part of their job, who knows who was in charge of them. It wasn’t their fault. Not even Cyberlife’s at all. 

In fact, it’s Connor’s. He should have stayed quiet, acted like it didn’t hurt. If he could have pretended better, then they wouldn’t have continued to hurt him. It would have stopped. He’s not supposed to fail like he did. He’s supposed to be a machine and deal and not  _ feel.  _

But he couldn’t contain his screams when he was subjected to such intense pain. Connor doesn’t know why he feels pain. Androids aren’t supposed to, he knows that much. He also doesn’t know exactly when it began. He didn’t start off like this. He didn’t start off broken. Broken and disgusting.

The android’s eyes flutter open to stare back at the sky. Those stars are too far away, they can’t help him now. He wants to touch them. Touch them and save them. Let them save him too.

He falls asleep on this dew coated grass, alone. Crying. 

 

Hank awakes to a big, fuzzy face nudging him. 

“Sumo, god it’s so early, what’re you doing?” Hank mumbles as he rolls over. 

Sumo barks multiple times. Loud. 

“Alright, alright. I’m up,” Hank sits up and stares at the dog anxiously looking back at him, “What is it boy? Do you have to go outside?” 

The Saint Bernard turns tail and leaves Hank’s room. The lieutenant can only assume that is Sumo’s way of getting him to follow him. He complies and trails after the dog, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. It’s too goddamn early for this. 

A sudden chill runs over Hank as he steps into the hallway. Is that a draft? Hank begins to move quicker to go check on Connor, only to find the child absent from the couch. 

Panic.

“Connor? Connor!” Hank immediately raises his voice and shouts for the android child. Where did he go?? “Sumo, do you know where he is?!” 

Sumo is already on it, dashing outside of the front door that’s already wide open. Hank can’t help but grow nauseous with fear. What happened to the kid? He was just asleep on his lap a while ago, smiling as Hank stroked his hair carefully. He looked so peaceful and calm. Now he’s gone.

Then he sees him. 

Sumo towers above the crumpled child. Connor is curled on the grass, clinging to one of his arms. The android’s LED is lacking color, indicating he’s powered down. Or asleep. Or dead. 

Don’t think about the last option. 

Hank stumbles over and kneels over him, shaking him awake. He can’t fight the panic rising up like bile in his throat. He wants to throw up. 

“Connor, kid, wake up! Connor!” Hank shouts, not giving a single fuck if his neighbors woke up from the racket. He’s too focused on making sure Connor is alright. The kid can’t be dead, he can’t be, god he can’t-

The LED spins yellow, then blue, then back to a blinking yellow. Connor’s round chestnut eyes gently open and he squints in confusion. 

“Hank?” 

“Jesus fucking christ kid, you scared the shit out of me,” Hank leans back in relief, “What the fuck are you doing sleeping out here??” 

Connor shrinks back in on himself and Hank instantly feels bad for raising his voice. It wasn’t out of anger, honestly. He just got so scared- he can’t let anything happen to the kid.

“I’m not mad. I just wanna know. You really freaked me out there.” 

“I-I just wanted to look at the stars,” Connor whimpers, LED flashing red for a brief moment, “I woke up early and I really wanted to see them.”

“Hey, no need to get upset,” Hank focuses on lowering his tone to a comforting level, “So you fell asleep out here on accident? Do you know how dangerous that could have been for you?” 

It’s not Hank’s intention to guilt the kid, but that’s obviously the effect, “I’m sorry Hank I didn’t think about it.” The child slumps over, still holding onto that one arm. 

Hank has gotta remember that he’s dealing with a kid here. Of course he’s gonna do some stupid things. That’s how kids are, they’re not very good at gaging how risky things are. It’s like they seek out danger, “We can talk more inside. C’mere.” Hank offers to pick up the obviously exhausted child. 

Connor shrivels back from Hank’s touch. Is it just him, or did the child’s grip on that arm grow tighter? What happened to him??The man’s heart wrenches. Is he afraid of him? 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry-“ Connor blubbers out, “I’m not scared of you Hank I just-“ His voice breaks.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Let’s go get you back into the warmth, alright?” Hank obviously wants to know what is going on to make Connor act in such a way, but he also knows not to push for information. That could end very badly. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt Hank a little to see the android so clearly terrified.

“No Hank I’m really sorry I don’t want you to be upset,” Something in Connor’s voice is so raw and desperate, “I’m really sorry for worrying you, a-and for being _ stupid  _ and for being usel-.” 

“I said it’s alright. Please stop saying you’re stupid. Mistakes happen,” This seemed to trigger something in the android, who freezes up at those word, “Are you okay?”

“I’m not  _ supposed  _ to make mistakes!!” Connor rips up a clump of grass in a display of frustration.

“Connor, you’re a kid. Of course you’re gonna make mistakes.”

“No, Hank, I’m not a kid!! I’m a machine!!” The android yells out before grinding his fists into the sides of his head.

Fuck. Fuck. What does he do? Connor isn’t listening to anything Hank has to say. 

“Kid, please-“ 

“Stop calling me kid!!! I’m a  _ machine!”  _ Connor screams. His hands drop and his eyes widen, “Hank I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to yell I’m sorry don’t be mad I’m sorry I’m sorry-“ 

“Don’t be sorry Connor. Please,” Hank can’t look at the child’s broken face, “Just- why don’t we go inside now?”

Although he says nothing, Connor stands up with his hand still gripping his arm.

Hank led the way, glancing back to make sure the child is following him. Sure enough, he is. Just slowly, with an unfocused look on his face.

They sit down on the couch and Hank tucks the blanket around Connor. The kid is still looking off into the distance, dazed. 

“Connor? You know you can talk to me, right?” 

“Why do you drink, Hank?” The quiet question appears from nowhere. 

Hank isn’t ready to tell him about Cole yet. 

“Jeez, that’s outta the blue. Well, things hurt sometimes. In here,” Hank points to his chest, “It hurts a lot and my thoughts- Well they won’t stop. Sometimes I decide I need to drink to make them quiet.” That’s the best explanation he can give without giving away too much.

“Why do you hurt?” Connor turns to Hank, glimmering brown eyes shining in the dark, giving away the fact that the child is crying. 

“There’s some things I just can’t forget,” Hank decides to be as honest as he can with Connor, “But I want to. So I drink.”

“I don’t like you drinking.” The words pierce Hank like a knife. 

“Can I be honest with you kid?” The android slowly nods, “I don’t like it when I drink either. But I don’t know how to stop.” 

“What if I want to forget things? What do I do?” Connor asks with a small voice.

Oh god. Hank doesn’t want to think about the possibilities of all the things this kid wants to forget. It hurts his heart too much. What should he tell Connor? He’s the least qualified person to be giving advice. 

“You- you talk about them. It makes it easier,” Hank’s a fucking hypocrite.

“But what if I can’t talk about it?” 

“Then, I guess you need to figure out what’s stopping you. So eventually, you can talk about it.” Hank doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Obviously the words didn’t reach Connor since he looked away. There goes the lieutenant’s chance at learning something about the child.

Here goes nothing.

“Can I ask you something now?” Connor looks nervous, but still nods yes.

“Why are you holding you arm like that?” 

At Hank’s words, the android looks down and seems to realize what he’s doing. He quickly let’s go. 

“I-I don’t know.” Connor avoids the lieutenant’s eyes. 

“You’re not hurt?” Hank presses gently.

“No!” Connor spits out the word. Frantic to prove himself, Connor yanks up his sleeve and shows him the arm. He’s right, there’s nothing there. Then why was he holding on so tight? Why is he so defensive about this? 

“No need to get worked up, it’s just a question. I’m concerned, Connor,” Hank leans back and sighs, “I don’t want you to get hurt. This is really fuckin’ weird for me, you know? I suddenly have a kid to take care of.” The lieutenant confides. 

“I’m really sorry!! I can leave!” Connor is pushing himself up already. 

“No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just… different. Not bad,” Hank reassures the child, “In fact, I’m really glad you’re here.” 

Connor looks back to Hank. Oh god those broken eyes. 

“I-I was hurt on this arm before. That’s why I was holding it,” He tells the man in a low voice, “I just remembered it earlier. That’s all.” 

That makes a lot of sense now that Hank considers it. He wonders what could have happened to that arm. Androids don’t scar, so there are no telltale signs like humans would have. The lieutenant’s mind can’t help but drift to the worst possible scenarios. 

“Connor, thank you for telling me.” 

“Why are you thanking me? I’m just doing what you told me to.” Connor sounds frustrated with himself. 

“No, it’s hard to open up to people,” Hank crouches in front of the kid, “I understand. Don’t feel like you have to tell me everything. It’s okay, so long as you don’t bottle it up forever. I want you to be able to talk to me comfortably.”

The conversation appeared to be over, since Connor has now turned away from Hank. The lieutenant’s heart pains. 

“I’ll let you sleep a little longer. Goodnight Connor,” Hank hesitated before adding, “You can get me if you need anything.” 

“..Okay.”

...What could have happened to make Connor act so fearfully?

Hank is afraid to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote like a 3500 word chapter and then scrapped the entire thing except the first line because it just didn't flow right. 
> 
> ahhhhhhhh. But I rewrote and here it is. I also edited a few of the other chapters to try and catch some of my mistakes (sorry about those)
> 
> I loved reading all your guys' comments on the last chapter. Seriously, I was checking my email constantly since I love talking to you all. I hope your days' are going fantasticly, and if not I'm really sorry I hope it gets better. Thanks for the love and support <3


	8. Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is left alone while Hank goes to work.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Self hatred/Negative self talk, Panic attack, Sensory overload, Self harm, Illusions to suicidal thoughts

Hank opts to stay awake until he is absolutely positive Connor is safe. Even when he’s sleep, just to not take any chances the man decides to sleep in the reclining chair instead of his usual bed. This way, if anything happens he will hear for sure this time.

There’s so much to process.

The lieutenant’s mind flutters back to what Connor had said earlier, about wanting to forget. Hank feels exponentially guilty for being such a hypocrite. He seriously does want to give the kid genuine and good advice but that’s something he doesn’t have. If he did, then maybe Hank wouldn’t be in his own mess. 

What happened to Connor? At this point, Hank is pretty scared to find out. Although, he’s got some ideas of what might have happened back in the Cyberlife tower. 

He doesn’t want to know how badly this kid has been hurt by that place. 

Fucking Cyberlife. 

Fury runs hot and thick through his blood as Hank continues to evaluate the company. Those fuckers did something to this kid. It’s almost as if telling a child he’s defective and useless isn’t cruel enough. They had to push so far to make Connor so deathly afraid of failure that he melted down at the loss of a damn game. They made the kid want to forget something so badly he’s lost in life. This android is practically a baby. How could someone harm this baby child? 

The sheer idea of Connor getting hurt churns anger deep inside Hank like a primal instinct. The lieutenant isn’t sure when in the past three days he became so protective of the kid, but fuck it he will keep this kid safe. God knows he deserves it.

Hank physically aches as he recalls Connor flinching away fearfully from his touch. Although he knows it’s not really  _ him  _ the android is afraid of, he still can’t help the pain in his chest. He can’t even get upset with Connor, he’s too pitiful. The man wants to wrap his arms around him and act as a shield for the remainder of his days but he has to respect the kid’s space. If he doesn’t, well there goes the small amount of trust he has built in Hank. Let Connor come to him.

Being a police lieutenant, Hank knows all the signs of trauma and abuse. He can clearly recognize nearly every criteria in Connor’s recent behavior. It’s just hard to accept that this poor fucking kid was hurt so badly that he acts this way. It absolutely repulses Hank. He doesn’t want to know exactly what type of abuse the is might have endured.

What he wants to shout is  _ What happened to the smiling child bouncing about toys? What about the one baking him cookies and cleaning his kitchen? The same one who curled up on his lap like a damn kitten just hours ago?  _ But none of that would help in this situation. Although Connor is able to be happy for mere moments, it doesn’t change the fact that he admittedly has been acting in a much more concerning way than Hank knows is normal. Hank should just cherish the times that the kid  _ is  _ happy, and work through the times when he’s upset. But that’s much easier said than done. 

Sighing, Hank leans back in his chair. He glances at Connor, who is curled in the corner of the couch. Sumo has since taken the spot where Hank was previously sitting while he had his conversation with Connor. 

That conversation stirs an unpleasant feeling in Hank’s stomach as he recalls it. He  _ knows  _ he needs to stop drinking so much. In fact, in the past three days he has drunken much less alcohol. It feels like an accomplishment in a way, but Hank knows he can’t get too comfortable. He always returns to those urges and impulses telling him to drink. No matter how many vows and swears he makes to himself, it doesn’t stop. 

And now it’s affecting this poor kid. 

This has gotta stop. For real. Hank has told himself this before, but he tries to put his entire heart and soul into these words he’s thinking. He's gotta call it quits. He’s got a real reason to stop now. If he doesn’t stop for Connor- well, fuck knows what will happen. Nothing good, that’s for damn sure. 

There’s so much to be sorted out still. In fact, Hank feels even more on edge than when he began this train of thought. But as the clock registers that it’s 6:00 am, the lieutenant gives way to sleep for the next couple of hours. Heaven knows he desperately needs it. 

The sun is what eventually awakes Hank. It twinkles and shines over his face and he reaches up to shield his eyes from it. His back is cramped and stiff from sleeping in such an odd position. Definitely worth it though.

Hank really doesn’t want to go to work today.

He doesn’t want to leave Connor alone, but what choice does he have? He can’t take the kid into work, that would be too uncomfortable for them both. Not to mention lots of his coworkers can get violent around androids. 

The lieutenant decides against waking the child sleeping peacefully on the couch. At least for now, he can hold off. Hank will get dressed first and then let Connor know he’s gotta go. 

What will Connor do all day? Hank isn’t worried about the house, or even Sumo. He knows Connor wouldn’t do anything to trash the house or hurt Sumo. He’s just worried about what the kid might do to himself. It’s really a terrible idea to leave him in solitude for any amount of time right now; he was in the next fucking room just hours ago and yet the child managed to get outside and fall asleep out there. Someone could have seriously harmed him. 

God, there’s no need to get so worked up. Sumo will keep him company, and he’s got new toys and ingredients for cooking and the television. Yeah, he will tell him all of that. Although Hank’s worries can surely be justified, he is trying to brush them aside for the sake of his own sanity. If he continues to run his mind ragged like this, he will never get anything worked out.

He’s changed into new clothes now; a colorful button down shirt and jeans with his usual jacket. Hank quietly walks to the kitchen, so not to wake Connor, and opens the fridge to grab himself something to eat. A bagel does the job just fine. No need for butter or anything of the sort, just dry and plain. He’s purely eating to function right now. 

This is the part he’s not looking forward to. After finishing the bagel and washing it down with some water, Hank shuffles back into the living room. 

The lieutenant crouches in front of the couch, in close proximity to Connor. He tries first by gently calling the child’s name, but when that appears to be doing nothing Hank resorts to softly nudging the android’s shoulder. Connor sits up, alert.

“Hank?” Connor questions as his artificial pupils dilate and shrink, focusing on the man. “Why are you awake so early? Aren’t you tired after I- after what happened earlier?” 

The kid sounds so damn ashamed. Hank wants to wash that shame away and replace it with confidence and joy, but realistically he can’t do that within the few minutes. He’s got to say goodbye, for now.

“I’ve got a job, remember? As much as I want to stay here with you, I have to leave for a bit,” Hank sighs and smiles sadly at Connor, “I’ll be back home as soon as I can. That’s a promise.”

“A pinky promise?” A small pinky appears from beneath the blanket. 

“Pinky promise.” The two hook pinkies. 

“There’s an old landline phone by the computer for emergencies. If anything happens, I’m serious, call me,” Hank stares Connor down. “I know you don’t want to ‘bother’ me but I swear you won’t. My cell number is taped next to the phone, and so is my work phone number.” 

Connor bobs his head up and down, stretching his arms and neck.

“You can do whatever you want here so long as you stay safe. Feel free to cook whatever you would like to or watch tv or get out your toys. Just don’t try the bike without me.” Hank warns.

“I won’t, Hank.” The android’s tone is much different than last night. Although the man desperately wants to inquire further, he seriously shouldn’t be late again. Fowler will have his ass. 

“Okay. I’m serious, call me if there’s any issues at all. I will come straight home once I’m done.” 

“It’ll be fine, Hank.” The child is acting in such a nonchalant manner that it’s unsettling. Hank feels concern and anxiety twist like a ball in his stomach. He can deal with this later. He has to, there’s not choice.

“If you’re positive..” Hank isn’t convinced. “Please stay safe.” 

 

Connor allows his eyes to follow Hank’s form as he exits the house. The android knows how concerned the lieutenant must be. What stupid things he did last night. What right does he have, to cause such concern? 

What a failure. 

The android exhales a tiny sigh. He really doesn’t want this to be how his entire day goes. He just attempted to put up a good front to Hank but it’s obvious that the man saw right through it. Connor isn’t fooling anyone with his fake attitude that everything is ‘fine’. Of course it’s not fine. There’s a 98% chance he will begin crying again at least once today, and if that happens then there’s a 46% chance he will have another memory. 

No. He can’t dwell on that subject for too long- it’ll just drag him down into the pits of despair once again. 

He doesn’t want to be a failure. 

It’s not allowed. 

“Sumo, I’m so stupid, did you know that?” Connor whispers as he strokes the dog’s huge ear. “I’m a machine. Why am I trying to be something I’m not?” 

Sumo, of course, says nothing in response. However he does whimper a little bit. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you Sumo. You’re a good doggy. I shouldn’t be doing this,” The android can feel emotions heavy in the back of his throat. Emotions that he’s not supposed to feel. Malfunctions. “I should just stop crying and deal. So why is that so hard??”

Quiet.

“This is pointless,” Connor pushes off from the couch and begins trying to fold the large blanket with his small arms. “It’s so so  _ pointless!” _

“I don’t want to bother Hank but every time I try not to, I end up freaking out without trying to. I really can’t control it!” Connor is angry with himself. He doesn’t want to be this way, no he can’t be this way. It’s inconvenient and useless. He’s not allowed. His mind dances to different topics and he shoves every single one away metaphorically. 

“Sumo, I’m so scared,” Connor kneels down and hugs the dog’s face. “I don’t want to be taken away. I don’t want them to do bad things to me again. But they weren’t even bad! It’s my own fault that they happened I should have been better. I should have just stopped  _ feeling.”  _

But Connor knows for a fact that when he was in those moments, the very last option he had was to stop feeling. It simply wasn’t possible, no matter what he tried. He could will himself to stop, but of course it doesn’t work. If never does. He will always be a failure.

“I don’t want Hank to know about this,” Connor can feel a lump of panic forming at the idea. “I don’t want him to know what a failure I really am. Just how  _ broken  _ I am.” He spits those words and grows madder at himself by the second. This needs to stop.  _ Now. _

“Never mind Sumo. I’m really sorry.” Connor mumbles as he pulls away to sit on the floor. 

He can’t have another meltdown like last night. No, that isn’t an option. Just reimagining the fear on Hank’s face from last night is enough to make Connor want to do everything in his power to keep these emotions inside. These malfunctions inside. 

Today he will be normal and calm. At least on the outside. Inside, he can crash and burn for all he cares. So long as he isn’t causing Hank to worry, it’s worth it. Hank has already given him so much more than they ever did. Connor has already abused that care and concern all to much. It would be cruel to cause more stress for the man. He obviously has his own problems to care for. 

Alright. He could just go into standby once again and wait until Hank returns. That would probably be the best option if he wants to avoid the consequences of thinking. But Connor doesn’t really want to throw a whole day away. 

What would a normal child do to entertain himself? 

Connor could return to that book he was reading the other day. But at the same time he isn’t all that interested in it at the moment. Reading is too much work. Too much effort. 

He checks his internal clock. 9:38. It’s only been 17 minutes since Hank left. How is Connor going to survive all of today?

Maybe he should get dressed. It’s not as if he has anywhere to go but maybe it will help him feel more productive. More awake and active. Connor shifts through the still bagged clothes and locates a T-shirt and some sweatpants. Comfortable. Good. 

Ooh! He can wear his fuzzy socks now! Connor grows excited at the thought. He digs around some more before finding the pack of them. Which color to wear? Green? Purple? Blue? 

Connor decides on the red ones. They match the shirt he just picked out. Before heading to the bathroom to change, the android looks for one last thing. 

“Fishy!” He cries happily when he finds the oh so soft stuffed fish. Connor cradles it in his arms gently and runs to the bathroom. 

So far so good. Distractions. Distractions are good. Just keep finding them.

The clothes feel fresh and clean against Connor’s artificial skin. Sleeping outdoors for a few hours of the wet grass was really not a smart idea in retrospect; it caused the dinosaur one piece pajama set to feel all wrong against his body. But now it’s better. 

However the best part by far is when Connor slips on his prized fuzzy socks. He wiggles his toes around inside and grins. 

“Okay Fishy, now what should we do?” The child holds the stuffed fish up to his face and looks it in it’s shiny blue eyes. “We could go open up one of those building block sets.. I think they were called legos. But I don’t really wanna do that right now. Fishy, why must everything seem so unappealing?” 

Fishy responds as Connor mimics a bubbly voice he thinks a fish would have.

“I don’t know Connor. What if we watch the cooking channel?”

“But Fishy, I don’t want to watch the cooking channel.” Connor whines. 

“Then what about a cartoons channel?” 

“Hmmmm…. I’ll try it.” Connor exits the bathroom with Fishy tucked safely in his arms. 

“Tv, on!” The child commands as he watches the tv flicker to life. He uses his voice to flip through channels until he finds an animated movie on one. 

“How’s this one Fishy?” 

“I think it looks good! Should we close the curtains?” 

Connor glances over at the open curtains that are letting in floodgates of light. Although the natural light is nice, it’s currently reflecting off the tv and causing half of the screen to be unclear. 

“Yea, you stay here, I’ll do it.” The android tumbles off the couch and wanders over to the window. Now that he’s up close, Connor notices that he can’t even reach the window look out. Whatever, he will just close the curtains and return to Fishy and Sumo. 

“There we go!” Connor announces to his two companions. 

“Now let’s be quiet and watch the movie.” Fishy shushes and Connor obeys easily.

The movie is one that came out in 2027, according to Connor’s scan. It’s something of a sponge and other characters finding some lost treasure on the seafloor. It piques the android’s interest enough to keep his attention until the credits roll and commercials run. 

Once it’s complete, the time is 11:53. Although the television has sufficed for the past few hours, he is beginning to tire of just sitting here. 

As if on cue, Sumo whines and scratches at the front door. 

“Did Hank forget to walk you?” Connor leaps off the couch and walks over. The Saint Bernard gallops to the kitchen before returning with a leash.

“I’m not sure how Hank would feel if I took you on a walk Sumo..” Connor eyes the leash. “Plus I haven’t ever taken a dog for a walk. What am I supposed to do? What if I mess it up?”

The dog only stares at him pleadingly. 

“I don’t really want to upset Hank…” Connor hesitates before giving in and connecting the leash to Sumo’s collar. “A quick one? Is that okay? Let me put on my shoes and jacket.” 

Connor slides on his shoes and sweatshirt before returning to the obviously excited dog. 

“Okay Sumo, please don’t go too fast I can only walk so quickly.” Connor has Fishy tucked in his jacket’s pocket for safekeeping. 

The child swings open the door and blinks to adjust to the sudden daylight. After closing the curtains earlier, Connor had almost forgotten how bright it really is outside. He can feel his pupils shifting so he can resume seeing clearly. 

Being out and exposed in the broad sun is extremely uncomfortable for Connor, especially without Hank at his side. He wants to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

Do it for Sumo. He deserves a good walk. A good walk for a good boy.

Speaking of him, Sumo is happily trotting a good length in front of Connor, yet he’s not pulling on the leash all too much. That makes it a lot easier to handle. 

There aren’t many people on this street, Connor notes. Probably because everyone is either inside or at work. The weather today isn’t fantastic, still around 50 degrees Fahrenheit. It’s understandable that people want to remain indoors. Connor does too, but for his own reasons other than the temperature.

Being out here alone with Sumo is stirring anxiety deep in Connor’s being. He wants to finish walking and get back to Hank’s house. 

What if he gets lost? What if Sumo gets hurt? Hank would never forgive him! Irrational thoughts are flooding through the androids system as he feels his stress level increasingly significantly. 

Stress Level: 59%

It’s not even like anything bad is happening. This is stupid; he’s safe. Yet the worries and thoughts of what might happen, what could happen, won’t stop. 

Connor needs to get back inside as quickly as possible. 

Stress Level: 68%

Go. Home. 

Safety. 

How is he only halfway around the block?? 

The child is hit with a rush of emotions, emotions that are akin to something he has felt before. Pure and honest panic. A need for comfort and safety. Safety. Safety. Need safety.  _ Now.  _

Why did Connor even think this was remotely a good idea? Now he has to return home and calm himself down enough before Hank gets back. The thought of Hank seeing him in such a vulnerable and terrified state horrifies the android. 

Is this what humans call feeling sick to their stomach? Connor doesn’t have a stomach but something deep inside of him is making him simulate a disgustingly accurate depiction of being ill. The child wishes he could vomit like a human can; maybe then he’d feel better. Maybe then he would get to release this nasty feeling dwelling inside of him. 

But he’s an android without a stomach and without a need to vomit. Connor is a machine experiencing extreme software malfunctions. Malfunctions that make him afraid to die. 

No, not die. Shut down. 

Stress Level: 80%

Almost back. Almost there. Connor’s eyelids flutter open and closed swiftly as he inhales the cool air. The air will help his system from overheating. Has to stop it. Make it stop.

His hand tucks into his pocket as he runs his thumb across Fishy’s soft fabric. Focus on that. The comfort. Fishy is comforting. Just focus on the softness and get back inside. 

Connor can see Hank’s house from where he is currently. He quickens his pace. 

This is bad. Bad bad bad. Stress level should never get this high. The few times he has peaked to this point or higher- no Connor can’t remember that it’ll only make it worse. Don’t make it worse. It’s already bad enough that he’s melting down in the first place. 

Almost inside. Get inside. 

The android doesn’t register that he has broken into a full on panicked dash to return home. Connor wants to be home now no matter what it takes. 

Home. It’s not his home. It’s Hank’s home. Connor isn’t supposed to have a home. He’s supposed to be in the junkyard rotting right now. With all the other androids that malfunctioned like he did. Like he is.

Bad thoughts bad thoughts bad thoughts bad thoughts. 

Suddenly he’s inside. Sumo’s leash is already undone and the dog has gone back to sleeping on the couch happily. Connor collapses against the front door, sliding down to the ground shamefully. He pounds his fists into the sides of his head in anger. It  _ hurts _ . But he can’t stop- he’s too mad. He wants to rip out his own hair and dig his nails across his arms. Anything to get this fury out of his system. Make it go away!!

What a complete and utter  _ idiot  _ he is! He panicked over literally nothing. Nothing! Yet here he is, hyperventilating even though he doesn’t need to breathe, and once again his tear ducts are malfunctioning. So many malfunctions. So many errors. What a mistake he is. 

Stress Level: 88% 

Seek Immediate Assistance 

Connor is laughing. Laughing and sobbing. Those two things don’t go together. 

What’s wrong with him???

He knows the answer to that question but it makes him hurt more to consider. It’s easier to act oblivious and unknowing than to think about the truth. 

The android needs to get away from this door. Get off the floor and figure this mess out. But he can’t bring himself to move. Every time he tries, gravity seems to be pulling him back. Whispering for him to remain unmoving.

What should he do?

Connor’s mind flickers back to Hank’s words from earlier. To call him no matter what if something happened. But nothing happened! There’s no reason to call, really. It would only burden the lieutenant and drag him away from his job. Connor can’t do that. What can he do? What can he  _ do?? _

Bath. Bath was comforting that first night. He wants to erase this horrible grimy feeling off of him. A bath will help. Take it away. 

The android is heaving out sobs as he clings to the side of the couch and pushes himself to his feet. His legs are wobbly and unstable. Connor doesn’t like this feeling. Bad feeling.

He’s not even quite sure how he makes it to the bathroom, but he does. Not without losing a shoe on the way over though. 

Connor kicks off his other shoe and frantically turns on the water. Hot. As hot as he can handle. He locks the door and climbs in fully clothed, knees to his chest and an unfocused look in his eyes. 

This is bad. This is really bad. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have let himself get so upset again. Whatever. It doesn’t matter so long as he stays in here until he is calmed down. Once he’s better, he will go back out there and act as if nothing happened. Hank doesn’t need to know about this. It’s not as if anyone can even tell the lieutenant about this. It’s Connor’s dirty little secret. Along with all of the other disgusting secrets he has stored in this head of his.

He stares at his hands blankly as his sensors register that the water is 121 degrees. Much over optimal temperature. And it’s only rising higher. The mirror is fogging up and Connor feels light and airy. This is much better. The water might hurt a little but that isn’t an issue if it makes him stop thinking. He turns up the heat a little bit more. 

Connor takes his sharp little nails and drags them through his hair in frustration. The sensation is hot and painful. But familiar, which makes it alright. Right? Familiarity is what he needs?

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. 

Stress Level: 91% 

Water Temperature: 127 degrees 

The water is really starting to burn. The sensation is harsh and reminds him of all the things he doesn’t want to remember. Connor digs his nails in deeper. 

Anger. Burning rage with himself. Connor is so dramatic. What a show he’s putting on. It’s almost funny. He doesn’t want anyone to know what happened yet he seemingly goes out of his way to make things worse for himself. 

But the real thing that’s stirring such burning hatred for himself is the fact that he is such a burden to Hank. A machine being a burden. What a joke. 

Machines are supposed to help. Not be helped. 

Connor can’t stop himself as he rips of his sweatshirt and clings to fishy. He’s so upset it’s scary. He wants to be calm. He will do anything to calm down right now. He complies with the most irrational thoughts, like screwing his eyes shut and remaining underwater until the heat is overloads in this sensors, and scraping along his arms with his hands. 

Something familiar. Something normal for him. 

The blue blood isn’t pretty. In fact, it’s disgustingly ugly as it drips into his eyes from the small gashes Connor made in his head. How embarrassing, he can’t even control his actions. What is wrong with him. 

His arms don’t look so good either. 

Connor doesn’t feel good. Not good at all.

How pointless this is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this follows good. I’m honestly feeling a bit down since I feel like this is turning out to be shit but like I know it’s not I’m just anxious guess that’s why this is a self indulgent fic! 
> 
> Next chapter will have more Hank POV I promise. Tried to write a little bit more for this chapter. I also might upload the next chapter later tonight since it’s almost done. I’m not sure yet. 
> 
> All of your comments and kudos make me so happy I legit can’t explain. Thanks so so much.


	9. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank takes care of Connor.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Self hatred/Negative self talk, Self harm aftermath

Hank has a gut feeling that he needs to get home. Like, as soon as he possibly can. He can’t exactly explain this to Fowler, especially since he’s trying to keep Connor a secret, both for himself and for the kid. He knows that it could potentially be dangerous for Connor if someone found out he is supposed to be dead. And as for Hank, well he’s not embarrassed of the kid (in fact he’s quite proud) but he’s not ready to go flaunting around this kid to everyone. God knows how the rumors would fly. People gossip way too much in this precinct.

So how is he supposed to find an acceptable excuse to leave at 1:03? He usually leaves early, yeah, but never this early. Maybe he should fake being sick? He gave up doing that long ago, instead electing to just tell Jeffrey why he really wasn’t coming in. Usually the chief understood, but this is different. The truth can’t come out for this. 

Or he could just.. leave. Bring the workload he’s got to do home with him. Hank considers this option. Usually he doesn’t like having to combine his personal time with work, but what choice does he have? These cases need to be worked on, and Connor shouldn’t be alone for too long. Not when Hank is worrying like this. 

Yeah fuck it. He’s packing up and heading home now. If the work gets done at home, it gets done. He can figure those details out later. For now, Hank is all to familiar with the anxiety twisting in his stomach. He doesn’t even know why, Connor’s probably fine. Maybe a bit bored and lonely but he’s fine. Sumo’s there. 

But Hank knows that he’s lying to himself. He always trusts his gut, and his gut is telling him something is very bad. 

Thankfully the roads are much less busy on the way home since traffic is clearer. Not many people are hurrying to get back home midday. It takes him 20 minutes instead of 30, which is a good improvement even if it still takes a bit. 10 minutes saved can make the biggest difference.

Pulling up in his driveway, Hank yanks his keys out of the ignition and climbs out of the driver seat. His heart is pounding. Everything is fine. It’s fine. He’s going to walk in and see Connor making an absolute mess in his kitchen or talking to Sumo or playing with his legos or  _ something _ . He’s going to be fine.

Hank holds his breath in his lungs as he pushes open the door, hand instinctively on his holster.

No signs of Connor. 

Fuck. Fuck.

“Connor?” He calls as concern laces his voice. Sumo is sleeping peacefully on the couch, so there can’t be an intruder. His dog has a knack for knowing if there’s danger around. Hank lowers the hand that is propped on his gun. 

The lieutenant peers over the side of the couch and ruffles through the pile of pillows and blankets. A whole shitload of nothing. 

Shit shit shit. 

“Connor??” Hank shouts a little louder this time. He turns the corner sharply to look down his hall. While doing so, he steps on something. 

A little, tiny shoe.

His heart leaps in his throat. He can’t breathe.  The bathroom door is shut. Hank knocks, and after getting no answer he calls for the kid again, deeply concerned and fearful.

“Connor? Kid are you in there?” The only response he gets is heavy silence.

Hank tries the knob. It’s locked. 

This is bad. Really fucking bad. 

The man knows how to break a door down but he doesn’t want to do that. He doesn’t want to invade the kid’s privacy. Not unless he most certainly has to.

But there might not be much of a option here.

“Connor? I need you to answer me if you’re in there. Or else I’ve gotta break down this door.” Hank is borderline desperate. Fuck it, he  _ is  _ desperate. Just as he’s mulling over how to go about kicking down this door, a small voice returns Hank’s shouts.

“No! Don’t come in!” Hank feels his blood run cold. He grows sick to his stomach. It’s as if time stops. Those words have enough power to make his face fill with emotion.

“Why not? What happened?!”

“You just- you can’t come in right now!” The child is pleading and sounds panicked.

Hank really doesn’t want to do this but it doesn’t appear that Connor is going to be opening the door for him, and his top priority is that the kid is safe.

“I’m so sorry Connor but I really need to make sure you’re okay.” Hank mutters to whatever god and hopes for forgiveness.

The door swings inward with one swift kick to the lock of it. Hank quickly takes in the sight before him and has to blink to register the scene. Once he does, he feels more sick than ever. This is horrifying. 

Steam is rising all throughout the room it’s almost suffocating. Connor is in the bathtub, fully clothed and clinging to his new stuffed fish. He looks so panicked and exhausted at the same time. What really hits Hank where it hurts is the blue blood running down the child’s face and arms. The water is stained an unnatural hue of blue too. The sight alone is enough to churn such distaste in Hank’s mouth that literal bile rises in his throat.

“What happened?! Connor I need you to tell me!” Hank kneels down beside the bath as the android guiltily turns away from him. 

“Please go away..” The words are so filled to the brim with shame that Hank has to fight the urge to hug Connor right here and now. The kid is so pitiful in this moment. 

“Connor I can’t do that! You’re fucking bleedin’ outta your damn skull. Come on, let’s get you out of the bath and outta this room. I won't touch you unless you let me.” Hank pleads and promises, remembering last night’s events. He doesn’t want a repeat if that is possible.

“I don’t want you to see me like this!!” Connor screams the words, still staring away from Hank. He seems to be glaring at his reflection in the water. The man doesn’t need to look at the kid’s face to know he’s crying. Hank isn’t embarrassed in the slightest to admit that he has his own tears forming. 

“Connor you don’t need to be ashamed-“ 

“I’m not supposed to feel pain,” Connor whispers, seemingly to himself. He looks like he is anywhere but here. Hank wants to drag him back down to earth and swaddle him until all these bad feelings are gone, but he can’t. “I’m supposed to be an obedient machine. A quiet one. But I’m  _ not.  _ And I absolutely hate it. _ ” _

Hank doesn’t know what to do. He has never  _ not _ felt pain, and he knows that it’s normal for humans to feel such a sensation. But in all honesty, and android feeling pain is abnormal. The man wouldn’t go so far to say it’s a failure, but it’s definitely straying from the norm. This is crucial information.

Before Hank can realize what’s happening, Connor is already digging his hands into his arms once again. He is pressing the already stained nails into his skin until blue blood drizzles down like rain on a window. A sick expression spreads across the child’s face and Hank wants to vomit on the spot.

The lieutenant doesn’t hesitate to firmly grab both of Connor’s hands. Not tight enough to do any real harm, just enough to prevent the child from harming himself further. Connor wrestles and tries to break free, thrashing around with no real aim. He doesn’t escape Hank’s gentle hold.

“Please, Connor, look at me,” Hank begs. He doesn’t like how desperate he sounds but fuck it. This is important. “You need to stop hurting yourself. I’m serious. Come here, you’re going to overheat. I won’t push you for answers if you just please get out with me now. Please.”

Hank emphasizes his last word, saying it with more stress and inflection. Connor glances away before attempting to stand up with wobbly legs. Immediately when he tries to get up he falls, splashing back into the discolored bathtub. Hank is already reaching out to catch him, and he just barely manages to keep the kid’s head from hitting the tile wall and splitting open. That would have been less than desirable. Shit. He can’t do this.

“I’m gonna help you out, okay?” Hank tells Connor gently, who just nods as if he has given up completely. It’s so heartbreaking to witness. He just… doesn’t care. 

Once Connor is settled down on the floor with a towel around him and under him, Hank stands up to go grab some dry clothes for the kid. “You need dry clothes, alright? I’ll be right back. That’s all I’m doing.” Connor doesn’t even reply at all, just stares off dully into the distance. His eyes are drained of any sparkle they previously had. 

As soon as Hank turns out of the bathroom, he can admit that he begins to cry. Hard. The kind of crying that gives you a ringing headache afterwards and makes you want to sleep for multiple days straight. This kid was in his fucking bathtub  _ hurting himself  _ while the he had been at work. Hank doesn’t know if he will ever be able erase that image of breaking down the door and seeing the blood dripping from the kid’s body. It stings and burns his insides to even think about. The idea of returning back to that same injured child and seeing the marks he had made on himself again is nausea inducing. 

Fuck, he’s gotta get back to the kid quick before he does anything else to himself. He can’t leave Connor alone. Shit. Hank grabs the first set of pajamas he can spot along with some fuzzy socks and hurries back to the overheated bathroom.

“Here. I can’t close the door since it’s broken, but I’ll stand in the living room. Let me know when you’re done or if you need help.” It takes all of Hank’s willpower to prevent the trembling from creeping into his voice. He needs to be strong for Connor right now. He also doesn’t want to admit that he  _ can  _ close the door, but he doesn’t want to. There’s a good chance that Connor could block it and… do something bad. Not taking any chances.

Hank runs a hand through his hair as he paces back and forth. What is he supposed to do when Connor is done? What’s he supposed to say? Hank has his own amount of… self destructive tendencies… but seeing someone else do it is a completely different matter than doing it himself. Plus, he never took his own  _ fucking nails to his damn skull.  _

God, what a mess. 

Just how badly did Connor hurt himself? Was he doing it in an attempt to kill himself? The sheer thought sends a shiver down Hank’s spine. He may be a hypocrite, but he’s not ready to let this kid kill himself in his own goddamn house. Or at all. 

Should he just listen to what the android has to say? What if he doesn’t say anything? Hank hates to admit it but he needs real answers for this one. The other situations- fine, they were bad and worried him a shit ton but this is literally the kid making himself  _ bleed.  _ Hank never wants to have to see Connor’s blood again after this. 

Hank also can’t say that the memories he’s getting replayed in his head don’t hurt. Because they do. They fucking hurt a shit ton. It may have been near to three fucking years but that doesn’t change that it will  _ always fucking hurt.  _ You don’t just get over something like that. 

Stop. Fucking.  _ Thinking.  _

“Hank..” The hoarse voice sounds from the bathroom. Hank immediately starts back towards the bathroom. Connor remains on the floor, but now in dry clothes. The soaked stuffed fish is still in his arms. “I can’t get up.” 

Shit, is he dying? No of course not.. it’s just too hot in here. Even Hank is getting lightheaded from the steam. His system probably can’t take it. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Just let me start draining the bath and then we will get you out of this bathroom.” Hank curses himself much too many times over for letting it get to this point. 

The lieutenant pulls the plug in the bathtub and leans down to Connor. “Is it okay if I pick you up now?” 

The child is completely devoid of emotion now. He shrugs, uncaring. But Hank knows that he does care, it was just there moments ago.

“I’m going to, alright?” No response. Hank almost prefers the crying and screaming from before. This? This is just terrifying. Terrifying silence. God knows what he’s thinking inside that little bleeding head of his.

Hank slowly moves his arms to support Connor’s shoulders and back and underneath his knees. Almost immediately, the android leans his head into Hank’s shirt and sniffles. Oh fuck, Hank thinks his heart is actually going to snap into a million shards. 

The man ever so carefully caries Connor out to the living room and sets him down on the couch. As soon as Hank let’s go, the android begins to whimper. 

“Connor I’m just going to go get a wet cloth, okay? I need to clean you up. Then I’ll be right back here.” His words don’t seem to fully put Connor at ease, but he stops the whimpering. Which is a start, he supposes. 

He walks back to his bedroom, digging around in the basket of laundry he has yet to put away from a week ago. Once Hank locates a tattered old washcloth he retreats to the bathroom. It’s already much cooler in here, thank god. The lieutenant runs cool water over the cloth and then squeezes out the excess before returning to the injured child.

“See? I’m right back here.” Hank plops down on the couch near Connor. He hasn’t even been sitting for more than a few seconds before Connor wriggles his way onto his lap. What a change of behavior from not wanting to be touched at all. 

“This might be a little bit cold, alright? I’m just gonna get this- uh- stuff off of you. Let me know if it hurts.” Although the android doesn’t respond, Hank knows he heard him since the LED on the side of his head spins yellow instead of staying a steady red. 

As carefully as he can manage, Hank presses the damp cloth to the side of Connor’s head. The child flinches at the sudden cold contact, before relaxing into it. Hank is cautious not to hurt the kid further as he lightly scrubs the blue blood off of his face. Once it’s all removed from his head, Hank turns to the child’s arms. They’re far worse- much more jagged and angry. Done desperately and furiously. What had been going through the kid’s mind as he did this to himself?

“Hank?” Connor’s voice is ragged and barely above a whisper. 

“...Yeah kid?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know you are. But you don’t have to be. Just- try not to do this again, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt.” Hank sighs. It’s better to acknowledge his apologies than only telling him to stop saying them. 

“Why don’t you want me to get hurt?” Connor asks with confusion dripping from his voice. “You have only known me for a few days.”

“Well first off I don’t like seeing kids hurt at all. And secondly you don’t deserve to be hurt,” Hank replies matter of factly. “You might not see it right now, and that’s okay, but you’re a good kid Connor. A damn good kid.”

Connor’s face only becomes more perplexed. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I freaked out?”

“I told you I wasn’t going to push for answers, and I meant that. If you wanna tell me, by all means I would be glad to listen. But if you don’t, you are in no way obliged to.” Hank really does want Connor to explain, but he has to stay true to his word. 

“I-I dunno,” Connor starts as Hank finishes up cleaning him. Hank tucks the blanket over the sleepy eyed child and the android huddles closer to Hank until basically the entirety of his body is in some way connected with Hank. “I couldn’t stop thinking. I was trying really hard to distract myself so I wouldn’t make you upset again but I couldn’t stop.” 

Hank remains silent as a prompt for Connor to continue. 

“I watched a movie and it was funny! I even laughed at it! But right after it finished the thoughts came back,” Connor fumbles with his hands. “I don’t know why they keep coming back. Do you think it’s another malfunction?” 

“Malfunction? What are you talking about, kid?”

“My errors, my malfunctions. The emotions I feel are just miscoded lines and the pain I get is a mistake too.” Connor explains this in a sleepy voice like it’s common knowledge.

“Connor I need you to really listen to me here. I know you’re an android. And shit, I don’t even like androids. But you- you’re not  _ just  _ an android. Something inside of you is different. It’s too human to be considered a machine.” Hank is being honest; this kid is more human than some of the fuckers he can think of.

“But that doesn’t make sense Hank. I was made as a machine but instead of succeeding, I broke. I’m just experiencing intensive errors in my software.” Connor sounds so resigned to the fact in the words he says. 

“You didn’t listen to me Connor.  _ You’re not just a machine.  _ I’ll say it a thousand times if that’s what will drill it into your head. You need to learn that you’re not the same as a cellphone or a computer. You’re a living being- I know that! I can see it in your actions and the way you talk. I want you to believe me, I want that more than anything else right now.” Hank is pleading for Connor to really listen to these words.

“Okay. Say I’m not just a machine. Then what am I? An android with a ‘soul’? Because that’s stupid. I might have a child’s mind but I’m not that idiotic.”

“Is it really all that bad if we don’t know what you are? All we need to focus on is that you aren’t a machine.” Hank stresses. 

“I was taking Sumo for a walk,” The confession begins to spill on out of nowhere, unprompted and unpredictable. Even so, Hank listens intently. “He really wanted one. He brought me his leash and everything. I didn’t want to make you upset so I decided to only do a quick one around the block. But then I started to panic when I was outside alone with him. Nothing even  _ happened _ I just- just freaked out! It was so stupid! Stupid stupid-“

Connor is burying his face into the blanket when Hank interrupts him. “That’s not stupid, Connor. You got overwhelmed. You weren’t ready for that kinda thing.”

“But I  _ should  _ be able to deal with something as simple as being outside for a little bit alone!!” 

“It doesn’t matter what you think you ‘should’ be capable of. The fact is, you can’t handle it right now. Which is alright, we can work through it.” 

“But I want to be better now.” Connor tells him broken heartedly.

“I know you do. We all want to fix things right away, but it’s not possible. This  _ will  _ get fixed though. I promise.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely positive, kiddo.”

“Then do you hate me because I hurt myself?” Connor shrinks into him further, obviously afraid of the answer. Even though there’s no need to be. 

“Not at all. Obviously you got me a bit freaked out, okay a lot freaked out, but that’s normal. Wouldn’t you be afraid if I hurt myself all of a sudden?” Connor thinks this over and then nods into Hank’s shirt. “Exactly. I'm not mad at you at all, but I certainly would rather you not do it again.”

“I just couldn’t control it. My head was foggy and I couldn’t think I was just trying to do  _ something,” _ Connor looks up at Hank with those wide brown eyes. They’re tired and sad and desperate now though. “I don’t want to worry you Hank.” 

God, Hank’s heart hurts at those words.

“It’s natural for me to worry about you. It’s not a bad thing, it means I care about you.” 

“But what if you shouldn’t care about me?” 

“Now, I can’t think of a single good reason to stop caring about you.” Hank turns to glance at Sumo. This conversation is really starting to take the life out of him. 

“But I’m useless. I failed and I’m not supposed to fail,” Connor tugs at Hank’s shirt further. “They didn’t program me to fail.” 

“Connor how many times do I have to say it? Making mistakes isn’t failure. Losing a game once isn’t failure. Even whatever happened at Cyberlife  _ isn’t failure.  _ They’re wrong. They’ve got it so drilled into your brain that you’re not listening to me. You’re  _ not  _ useless kid. Anything but that”

“Do you really believe that?” Connor asks, vulnerability shining through his voice. 

“Of course I do. I believe what I’ve seen these past couple of days much more than whatever those stupid Cyberlife people think you are.” Hank reassures gently. 

“If you’re sure…” Connor settles back down and is obviously exhausted.

“I don’t like remembering them.” Comes the words, barely noticeable. Connor has his eyes closed.

“What do you not like remembering?” 

“All of it.” Connor snuggles closer, desperate for comfort. 

Hank combs his fingers through the kid’s hair. “I know. I know you don’t.” 

“Can you make it stop? Make the memories stop?” Connor asks with a groggy voice.

“I wish I could kid. Eventually though, they won’t be as frequent. I will make sure of that for you.” Hank vows right then and there to do whatever he can to to help Connor through this.

Comfortable silence settles between the drained pair.  “Hank, I think I’m going to fall asleep.” 

“That’s alright kiddo. Me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the double update. Take it. I’m not sure how much I love how this one turned out but I’m tired and I want to upload it for you guys. Tomorrow another chapter should still be up :))) thanks for all the comments and kudos so far


	10. Macaroni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank makes macaroni and Connor screams
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Self hatred/Negative self talk, Suicide is spoken about, Illusions to child abuse/neglect, Mentions of alcoholism

At some point along the line, Connor awoke. It’s sometime around 8:00 pm, but he doesn’t really care enough to keep track of the specific time. It’s not necessarily relevant right now.

Connor looks down at his arms. They disgust him, they really and truly do. He can’t believe he did such a thing and had absolutely no control over himself. It’s terrifying. Not to mention the scrapes still ache slightly. The sensation is not pleasant. It’ll take a few days for his system to heal them over naturally. How stupid of him.

The android shifts slightly and his eyes flick up to look at Hank. The lieutenant is fast asleep, snoring. Connor smiles a little bit at him. He can’t help the guilt that bites at his mind, but the warmth of Hank is distracting enough. He’s been all too kind. Connor burrows further into his fuzzy blanket.

Earlier was a complete and utter disaster. Obviously attempting to hide his emotions, or malfunctions or whatever they are, is not going to work out. Not when that just proved how pathetic he is. He allowed his stress level to get so high he nearly lost entire control of himself. What an embarrassing act. How horrible it must have been for Hank to witness.

Rubbing his head gently, Connor is careful to avoid the areas he pierced. Who knew finger nails could do such damage? In all honesty, Connor is really glad Hank came home when he did. Even though he told him to go away, he didn’t really want him to. That was something else inside of him speaking. The android is absolutely terrified of losing control again. That’s a feeling he is certain he never wants to experience again. He _wants_ to not hurt himself. He didn’t want to do that! It was just a reaction.. just a reaction!

Yet he still doesn’t want to let his walls down to Hank. That would mean the man learning about all the stupid things he let happen to him at Cyberlife. Hank would probably agree with him; it’s his fault. He should have stopped feeling.

This isn’t helping all that much, if at all.

Connor wonders what will happen when Hank wakes up. Will he get mad at him? Will he finally realize that Connor isn’t worth the effort?

What made the lieutenant come home early from work? He probably had to go back tomorrow, what will happen to Connor? Will he have to come with, or stay alone again? Are there any other options? The child doesn’t want to be such a burden, but the only way to stop would be to run away or self destruct-

No. That’s not an option. Neither are.

What if he took Hank’s advice from earlier? Opening up, would it really help? Connor would be lying if he said he didn’t feel more at ease after he told Hank about what happened outside, but that’s different. Isn’t it? This is _his fault._ All of those things they did to him, it’s his fault. Surely Hank would agree on that notion, even if he tried to sugarcoat it. After all, it’s Connor who continued to cry out every time they hur-

That’s enough of that.

It’s as if Connor’s mind is only working in circles right now. He can’t move away from these nasty thoughts that make him want to scream.

Screaming would be nice. Wouldn’t it wake Hank!though?

Yeah, it would.

He can’t scream.

The android wants to wake Hank up so he can talk to him, make him feel better. But isn’t that quite selfish of him? Waking up this obviously exhausted man because of his own wants? That’s like the definition of selfish, at least from what Connor can recall.

Why does everything have to be so difficult and complicated? Is there a way to make that stop? If there is, Connor would really like to know about it soon.

Thoughts won’t stop. Connor is on the verge of waking Hank up when the man begins to shift and awaken on his own. The man groggily reaches a hand up to rub his eyes and then mumbles out, “What time is it?”

“It’s 8:49 pm Hank.” Connor replies. Hank glances down and seems to remember about earlier.

“I forgot you were there kid,” Hank sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Jesus I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry Hank, that’s my fault.”

“Goddammit stop it with the sorrys.” Although Hank means it, his tone is playful and light to keep Connor calm.

“I’m doing my best.”

“Guess that’s all I can ask for.” Hank begins to sit up, stretching his arms and back.

Quiet makes its appearance in the room. It’s not comfortable though, in fact it’s quite unnerving. Connor quickly tries to fill it in with chatter and questions.

“Why did you come home so early?” It is something he’s curious about anyway.

“I just had a gut feeling something was wrong.”

“Your gut feeling was correct.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

The silence is back. Didn’t stay away for long.

“Well, whaddya say we go cook something? I know I’m starving.”

“You’re starving???” Connor is horrified.

“No no- it’s a saying kid. Just a saying. I’m just super hungry, haven’t eaten since breakfast.” Hank reassures.

Guess that’s better than actually starving. Connor had gotten really worried there for a second. As the worry subsides, he considers what he could do to help cook.

“What are you going to cook?”

“I’m thinkin’ ‘bout just some frozen pizza.”

“That’s not fun,” Connor pouts. “Let’s make pasta.”

“What kinda pasta didja wanna make?” The suggestion obviously catches Hank’s interest.

“I don’t know. All I know is that pasta is a funny word and I want to see what it is.” Can’t argue with that logic.

“Ah okay, I see. Well, then let’s go make some pasta.” Hank allows for Connor to crawl off of his lap before standing up.

“So I’ve only got the stuff to make Mac and cheese from a box right now,” Hank tells him as they enter the kitchen. “But next time I go shopping I’ll find something more fun to cook.”

Connor doesn’t know what Mac and cheese is. He knows what cheese is, but not the Mac part. “Hank, what’s Mac and cheese?”

“Oh god I forgot you don’t know, like, the basic rules of life,” Hank leans down, eye to eye with the android. “Mac and cheese is one of the _best_ meals out there. You just gotta know how to do it right. I ate it nearly everyday as a teenager just outta sheer love for it.”

“Allllright?” Connor doesn’t feel as if his question is really answered, but he decides to just wait and see for himself.

“So first we’ve gotta boil some water on the stove,” Hank flicks on the sink and begins to fill a saucepan with tap water. “It’ll take a few minutes, so go ahead and sit down at the table.”

The child does as he is told, and curiously watches as Hank turns a knob on the stove. He then places the saucepan over top of the flat surface.

“So, that will heat the water?”

“Yup, sure will. You have to be careful not to touch boiling water though, it’ll burn you good.” Hank warns as he pulls out his own chair to take a seat.

“I wasn’t planning on touching it.” Connor tells him sincerely.

“Didn’t think you were. But you’ve gotta be careful, it could accidentally spill and hurt you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

This time Connor is content with the silence. It’s full and happy. No bad things, no bad thoughts, no-

“Hate to do this, but it’s something I need to ask.” Hank seems troubled by whatever he’s about to say, since he’s wringing his hands and sighing.

“What is it?” Connor is slightly anxious, but it can’t be too bad, right?

“I don’t like putting it so bluntly, but uh- I need to know,” Hank grows deathly serious. “Were you trying to kill yourself back in the bathtub?”

Connor feels his eyes widen and his simulated pulse quicken. Did a breeze just come through? Because the child feels extraordinarily cold all of a sudden. He wasn’t trying to kill himself! Right? _Right??_ If he was, he doesn’t know about it! He couldn’t think straight back there, couldn’t take control of hims-

“Is that a yes?”

“No!!” Connor shouts defensively. “I mean, I don’t think so?!!”

“Whaddya mean by that?” Hank rests his elbows on the table, concern furrowing his eyebrows. His voice is still steady and calm.

“I-I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t _want_ to…” Connor swallows, searching for the right words. “-injure myself, but it just happened. I couldn’t stop it.”

Hank leans back in his chair. “Alright. I believe you, you don’t need to be worried.”

“I really didn’t want to die! I’m _afraid_ to die!!”

“I told you I believe you,” Hank can’t help the sigh escaping his mouth. “We’ve gotta figure out why you just started doing that then. Get you back in control.”

Connor remains quiet. He knows why, at least to a certain extent. He let his stress levels get too high. That inevitably will lead to self destruction, or at least an attempt to. Perhaps in his case he just tried to bring it down using… self injury… instead of actually self destructing since he wasn’t at 100%. He doesn’t want to say this to Hank though. The android is ashamed of himself for not being able to stop it when it was still lower.

“...yeah.” Connor replies, avoiding Hank’s face. Thankfully, the water begins to boil and the man pushes out of his chair to check on it.

“Alright, come over here. Bring that chair with you,” Connor complies and drags the tall chair over. “You pour this box of noodles in there, and then give it a good stir with this.” Hank hands him a silicone spatula.

“Okay.” Connor focuses in on following the instructions he was just told. A good distraction. Yes. Distract him.

The little curved noodles spill into the pot with many clinks and clatters. Connor looks to Hank, who nods approvingly. The android sets down the now empty box and begins to stir, watching them swirl around.

“Good, you did great. Now we wait around six or seven minutes ‘til they’re all the way cooked.”

“So now what should I say?” Connor asks, fidgeting with his pajama sleeve.

“Whatever you wanna say kiddo. Of course you don’t have to say anything also. We can just be quiet.”

“I want to be quiet. Just for a minute.” Connor needs to collect his thoughts.

“Take your time.”

Across from each other, both are having their own internal battles.

Hank desperately wants to help this kid. He doesn’t know what will happen next, how he can go back to work tomorrow, how he’s ever gonna get a good night’s sleep again with this worry in the back of his mind. Seeing Connor bleed out- it was all to familiar of a sight for Hank. He feels ill just thinking about it.

Meanwhile Connor is continually berating himself right now. Once again he wants to scream. He wanna ts to get rid of all these stupid stupid errors or emotions and make the pain go away. Why would he want to hurt himself?? Why would he do that? Where was his right mind in those moments? Connor can recall the heated air making his mind and vision blurry. He doesn’t want to remember that. He doesn’t want Hank to remember that. He shouldn’t have done that in the first place.

“Hank, can I scream?” Connor asks out of the blue, a dazed look in his eyes.

“What for?” Hank is really worried now.

Because these thoughts won’t go away. Because he’s angry at himself. Angry at Cyberlife. Because he’s guilty and stupid and broken. Because he’s a failure. Because he hates himself. Because he’s hurting Hank. Because he isn’t supposed to be feeling these things. Because he shouldn’t want things. Because he can’t do as he told. Because he _wants to di-_

No he doesn’t!

“Just because.”

“Uh- sure? Can we do it outside? I don’t really want Sumo to freak out.”

“Alright.” Connor is already pushing himself out of his chair. Hank leads the kid outside, back to that fire pit of his. Anxiety is tying knots in his stomach.

The air is colder than last night’s. Judging by the low growl of distant thunder, tomorrow is gonna be another stormy day. Not that Connor minds all that much. He’s staying inside anyways.

“Can I do it now?”

“Yeah, uh, sure?”

Just as those words are leaving Hank’s mouth, Connor is already letting out a blood curdling scream. Hopefully the neighbors aren’t too worried. The scream is filled with such raw, unbridled emotion that Connor doesn’t know how to describe. It’s so much, just coming out all at once. It’s all of his malfunctions intertwining into one error.

Connor chokes out the last of his scream and collapses to his knees. Hank is down by his side in an instant, asking if he’s okay and reassuring him he did good and it’s alright. Connor doesn’t want to respond. His throat and audio processor hurts. At least he’s not crying.

“I’m sorry Hank I’m sorry I’m so sorry I just needed to get that out I’m sorry I’m sor-“

“Don’t be sorry it’s alright.” Hank engulfs the child in a gentle hug. Connor is surprised; usually he’s been the one to initiate contact. Mostly because he needs comfort. But this time Hank can already tell he really needs the comfort.

“We should get inside before it starts to pour,” Hank helps Connor up to his feet. “Let’s go finish the Mac and cheese, okay?”

“Okay.”

The pair enter the house, Connor close by Hank’s side. Although he feels annoying, the child doesn’t want to be alone. He’s embarrassed of himself, embarrassed of what he keeps doing.

“Okay, so I’m gonna take it off the water and drain it since I don’t want you getting burnt,” Hank tells him as he helps Connor settle back into the wooden chair. “Once it’s drained you can come help out the rest of the stuff in.”

Honestly, the appeal of cooking right now has been lost on Connor but he is still somewhat curious what this Mac and cheese looks like when it’s completed. So he stays and does as he’s told.

Hank has directed him to get the milk and margarine out of the refrigerator. Connor can’t help but be confused why humans eat solidified oils, but whatever. It’s not his life, he’s not a human. Who is he to judge, he can’t even taste it.

“Just take a good spoonful of the margarine and drop in directly into the noodles. You never want to put as much in as the box tells you to, it tastes nasty.”

“Okay.”

“Mix it until it’s all melted; shouldn’t take long. The noodles are pretty hot.” Hank explains. Connor follows the directions easily until he’s done.

“Now what?” Connor asks. He wants to go back to the couch and curl back up with Sumo and Hank as soon as possible.

“Splash in a bit of milk. No need to measure that either, it doesn’t really matter. Just try to do a little bit at first, you can always add more.”

Hank’s lack of following directions is confusing to Connor. Wouldn’t he want to make it as directed? Wouldn’t it taste better that way? But once again, Connor can’t taste; how would he know?

The android unscrews the plastic cap to the milk and splashes some of the liquid on top of the noodles. “Now just this packet?”

“Yup! Exactly. Once you stir that in, we can add a bit more milk if it’s too dry.”

It isn’t too dry. In fact, it’s near to perfect. Hank can’t help but get some warm fuzzy feelings inside. He just taught this kid something. Something he might not ever need to know, but something albeit.

“Hank, can we go back to the couch? I’m tired.” Connor isn’t really, but he would like to stop thinking. So maybe going into standby mode isn’t all that bad of an idea.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll meet you in there after I put this into a bowl.”

Connor wanders back into the living room, crawling back into the couch and swaddling himself in the blankets. It’s so nice to have some of his own honestly. He didn’t get any at Cyberlife- why would he? He’s an android. He just sat in the small room they allotted to him during night. But he shouldn’t recall those memories, not here, not now.

The child glances back into the kitchen. Hank is opening a bottle of whiskey again. Connor can’t help but feel unnerved by the sight.

“Alright, I’m here. You wanna watch some tv?” Hank offers as he settles into the couch.

“Not really.” Connor’s eyes haven’t left the whiskey bottle. Not that Hank notices.

“Okay, what do you wanna do?”

Moving back over to rest his head in Hank’s lap, Connor thinks. “I want to… talk.”

Hank’s expression grows curious and surprised. “Go on.”

“Why are you drinking right now?”

“Connor, if you’re thinking it’s your fault, it’s not. It’s a habit- I’m dependent on it for now,” Hank hopes the child can understand that. “It’s not your fault.” He repeats.

“Okay,” Connor is silent as he thinks further. What does he want to talk about? There’s a lot he probably should explain, but none of it sounds very easy to talk about. Maybe it would be easier if Hank was asking the questions. Then he wouldn’t have to think it up on his own. “Can you ask me things? I don’t know what to talk about.” There’s too much.

“Uh, alright but you tell me if it gets too much or too uncomfortable,” Hank spoons more of the macaroni into his mouth. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“I know you don’t. I appreciate that Hank.”

“Uh, Let’s see,” Hank ponders. He shouldn’t begin with really touchy questions, even though those are important. “Why do you like the stars so much?”

“There’s so much I don’t know about it,” Connor visibly relaxes into Hank. “Just like the ocean. I want to know what I don’t know. I want to feel it.”

“So is that why you like fish?”

“No I don’t think so. I’m,” Connor thinks. “I’m not sure why I like fish.”

“Alright, well that’s alright,” Hank doesn’t know where to go from here. Might as well dive straight on in. “What happened to your arm?”

Connor tenses at the question. Yes, he wants to get things out. Feel that relief. But this is not something he wants to share right now. Not ever, really. “I-I got burnt.”

“Was it an accident?”

“N-no.”

Hank presses the matter no further. Connor is grateful since he had begun to tremble and shake somewhere between the time when Hank asked him and when he answered.

“How long were you outside?” Hank asks gently. He notices how Connor is much more at ease with this question than the last.

“I’m not sure. It felt like forever but it couldn’t have been that long.”

“Were you outside when it was snowing?”

“Snowing? What’s that?”

God that’s sad. “White stuff falling from the sky. Pretty cold.”

“Oh! That’s what it’s called,” Connor has a look of understanding in his face. “Yeah, I was. It was okay though. Fluffy.”

The last snowfall had been just under a month ago. Damn Michigan, snowing in March. So he had been outside for at least a month.

“What’s your favorite type of weather?” Hank decides that’s enough prodding for tonight. He doesn’t like pushing for information.

Connor snuggles up to the blanket, pushing his face into it. “I think I like stormy weather. But the sun is also nice, if it’s in a pretty area. I don’t know if that makes sense.” Connor rambles. This is so comfortable. He’s safe. It’s okay.

“Yeah, I like rain too.” Hank sets down the now empty bowl and takes a sip of his drink. The kid is facing away from him, but he doesn’t seem to be upset.

“You wanna see the ocean one day?” Hank asks quietly. No response is sounded, and he leans over and notices that Connor has fallen asleep. There’s a tiny smile on his face.

“Ah, you fell asleep on me. Guess I’m sleeping out here tonight.” Hank doesn’t mind.

Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve got something to do tonight so enjoy an early update. This chapter is a quick break from the angst, at least mostly. It’ll return but I don’t want it to just be a constant flood of angst, not when it doesn’t make sense. 
> 
> I’ve got pretty much the whole story planned and I’m so excited to write it all! I’m so glad everyone is liking it. I woke up and looked at my email and literally was about to cry at all of the messages from you guys. It seriously means the world. Love you all :’)))


	11. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor kinda goes to work with Hank and has a dream.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Panic attack, Nightmare, Self hatred/Negative self talk, Child abuse/neglect

Both Hank and Connor sleep soundly tonight. Somehow, in the middle of the night, Sumo managed to get in the mix so when Hank first awakens, he is halfway off of the couch.

“Ugh- Sumo! You big ass log!” Hank struggles to escape from underneath the dog while simultaneously not waking Connor and falling on the floor.

He wakes up Connor and falls on the floor.

“Hank? Are you okay?” Connor rubs his eyes and then is sitting up, concerned. Sumo doesn’t care, that little (big) shit.

“Oh yeah,” Hank grunts as he pushes himself into a sitting position. “Absolutely fantastic.”

“I think I detect some sarcasm?”

“Hell yeah I’m sarcastic. I just fell off the couch.” Hank laughs. Connor still remains worried.

“Are you positive you didn’t get hurt? Did I take up too much space? You can sleep in your bed tonight. I’m s-.” Connor cuts himself off before he apologizes again.

“Hey! You caught yourself! Good job kiddo, I know it’s a hard habit to break,” Hank genuinely is proud. It’s a start. “And nah, I’m not hurt. You weren’t the problem, it was Sumo who took up all the space.”

“Oh. He’s been sleeping with me at night.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Hank stands up and yawns, listening to his stiff back crack. “Well, let’s get up for the day. You know what time it is?”

“It is 7:06 am.” Connor replies quickly without looking anywhere. Kid must have a built in clock or something.

“Wow, I think that’s the earliest I’ve been up in years,” Hank doesn’t even think the sun has fully risen yet. It’s only April after all. “Alright well we should get dressed and ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?” Connor tips his head to the side in a display of confusion.

“You’re coming to work with me. Don’t get too excited, I’m gonna have you stay in the parking garage but you can bring whatever you want,” Hank glances at Sumo. “Except Sumo. He’s too big.”

“Awww but he’s gonna be so lonely!” Connor nuzzles his face into the Saint Bernard.

“Trust me, he’s been here alone while I had to go to work for years. I assure you he’ll be fine.”

“Why am I coming to work with you today?” Hank knows Connor can tell the reason on his own; he’s a smart kid. Yet he still asks.

“Don’t wanna leave you alone,” Hank respond simply, leaving the matter at that. “Do you need me to pick out clothes for you or do you wanna choose your own?”

“I can get my own.”

“Alright, then I’m gonna go get changed myself.” Hank informs the android as he heads towards his bedroom. Once he’s in his room, Hank scratches his neck and sighs. Leaving Connor in the car isn’t ideal in any way, but what choice is there? Leaving the kid here alone already proved to be a terrible idea.

Whatever, what’s done is done. Today will be better.

Hank changes into his usual work attire and glances in the mirror. He actually looks more disheveled than usual, which is a little surprising considering the amount of time he’s spent sleeping in the last 24 hours.

He should probably go brush Connor’s hair now, right? Hank leaves his bedroom and knocks on the bathroom door. A quick memory of yesterday causes Hank’s hair to stand on end. “You in there?”

“Yeah but now I’m done.” Comes the reply. Okay, he’s alright.

Entering the bathroom, Hank eyes Connor up and down. The kid is dressed in long sleeves, long pants, and a hat. It might be a bit chilly out, but it’s certainly not bad enough to need a winter hat on.

“What’s up with the getup?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I only dressed for comfort.” The android states matter of factly. Hank knows Connor is lying though, since he’s avoiding the lieutenant’s eyes.

“I might’ve believed that of it weren’t for that hat.”

“I need the hat.” Connor insists.

“And why is that?” Hank questions.

“Because!”

“Connor why do you need it?”

“So I don’t have to look at the marks I made! Okay?!” Although the words are quiet they are hot and full of shame. Connor is staring at the ground as he’s fidgeting with his hands and shuffling his feet.

“Alright,” Hank drops the matter immediately. “So I’m guessing you don’t need your hair brushed today?”

Connor shakes his head no, eyes still directed at the floor.

“Okay then I’m gonna go grab a breakfast bagel and then we can head out. While I’m doing that, you can get whatever you want to bring, okay?”

“Okay.” Connor follows Hank out of the bathroom and goes back to his bags of goodies.

Hank watches the child sort through his items while he eats another bagel. Connor has already set aside his stuffed fish to bring, along with the book he had been reading a few days ago and his throw blanket. He seemed to be having an internal debate if he wanted to bring the coloring book and crayons or not. In the end, the android decides yes and places them with the rest of his things.

“Is that everything?” Hank asks over a mouthful of bagel.

“Yes Hank, is that alright?”

“Yeah it’s good. So long as you don’t want anything else?”

Connor appears thoughtful. Hank expects him to say no, but the kid always seems to surprise him.

“Do you have any regular paper?” Connor asks. “I mean like old style paper, not digital stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few notebooks stashed in my desk drawers. You want some?” Connor nods eagerly. “Okay, I’ll get you a notebook. Pen or pencil?”

“Which is which again?”

“Pencil you can erase, pen is permanent. Pencil can break though.” Hank explains.

“Both?”

“Works for me,” Hank gathers the objects into his grasp and hands them to Connor. “This can be your notebook. If you fill it up, lemme know and I’ll give you another.”

“Thank you Hank.” Connor’s thank yous are so sincere.

“Not a problem. Now let’s go shock everyone in that office by showing up almost on time.”

“Yeah! Go Hank!” Connor grabs his stuff and races to the door. Hank pats the kid’s shoulder and says his goodbyes to Sumo. Here we go.

 

Connor isn’t a fan of staying in this small car all alone.

He has to admit, it is better than being back at Hank’s house alone. Even though Sumo is there. Here, he can just focus on the things in front of him or go into standby. No big deal. No stress. Everything is good.

Hank had wanted to keep the car running for Connor, but the android insisted that he will be okay without the heat. The lieutenant reluctantly gave in.

Although he had only been alone for 8 minutes and 31 seconds, Connor is already terribly bored. He wants to write, yes, but that’s so much _effort_. Coloring could be fun but again, effort. Everything requires effort. Effort effort effort.

Thinking isn’t too much effort.

Maybe he should just use this time to sort out his thoughts. After all, they are quite a mess right now. Especially from all of his recent disturbances.

Connor still isn’t fully convinced that talking will help. Ever since he told Hank about his burns last night he’s felt on edge and, to put it simply, disgusting. He even managed to tell him it wasn’t an accident. Does Hank think he did it to himself? On purpose?? Because he didn’t! He didn’t want to get burnt by that person.

...Or did he? Is that why he kept feeling? Kept crying out? To antagonize the workers further until they continued to hurt him?

Does that even make sense?

Does anything he says make sense?

Either way, talking isn’t helping. That’s why he asked for the notebook. Maybe he can write it down. Maybe that wouldn’t be as hard as saying it out loud.

But what if Hank finds it? And then he learns just how pathetic Connor truly is? The thought alone makes Connor afraid to write. Maybe that’s not such a good idea.

He can just keep it inside for now. He can remain vague and not tell details. That will be okay; a good balance, right? Then he doesn’t absolutely freak out like yesterday but he doesn’t have to tell Hank everything that he let happen to him.

The storm hasn’t stopped since it began late last night. Connor can hear the delicate pitter patters of rain outside of the parking garage.

Connor is glad that Hank opted to park in the garage instead of outside. He doesn’t really want to go back to where he was found. In all honesty, it did hurt when Hank bumped him with the car. Not enough to do bad damage, and not even near to most pains he has felt, but still uncomfortable and unpleasant to experience.

Why does he have to be the one android in the world who feels pain?

Or are there others? Is this something that is more common than Connor thinks, but it’s just covered up? No one was supposed to know about Connor. In fact, no one would have if Hank had not found him. Is there others experiencing such bad malfunctions?

They’ve probably been thrown out too. And some probably weren’t as lucky as he was. Connor shivers at the thought. He was so close to that fate.

No matter. He is here and safe for now.

The android can feel himself grow sick with the idea that he will inevitably have another meltdown. It’s not possible to keep it all inside. There’s actually a .07% he can, but that results in very bad situations…

He still doesn’t want to freak out again. It’s embarrassing and he feels gross afterwords. Ashamed. He both wants to get comfort from Hank but at the same time he wants to be as far away from the man as possible. He doesn’t enjoy being seen in such a vulnerable state.

Ugh. He’s gross.

Connor can’t unbuckle his seatbelt on his own so he’s kept in a sitting up position. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s a bit odd to try and cover himself with the blanket when he can’t curl up into it.

It’s almost like how he was forced to stay during night’s at Cyberlife.

Back there, since humans sleep at night, he would go into standby for 8 hours until the first humans arrived. But he was never provided with a blanket or even a sheet. He just sat against his wall and willed himself to trust that he’s safe enough to go to sleep. But that was always a lie, he wasn’t safe. Not so long as he kept getting more and more new errors.

The glances and glares the workers gave him stir something bad in Connor’s mind as he recalls them. He knows how they saw him- an anomaly to ruin all of their perfect work. A pointless project that should have been scrapped ages ago. A _broken machine._

All of which isn’t untrue.

Just thinking about Cyberlife is enough to make Connor’s simulated breathing hitch and soon after, stop. He should stop thinking about them while he still is in control.

Connor shakes his head and snaps his eyes up to look out of the car window. There’s not much to look at, but the child busies himself with counting how many security cameras there are on this floor of the parking garage. It takes a few minutes but the number he arrives to is 16. Not that that is important information.

He wonders what it would be like to be human. To eat food, to have his own choices and decisions, to have rights and to go to school. Wouldn’t it be nice? Then perhaps he wouldn’t be this disgusting.

Maybe he wants to be human.

Maybe that would be easier.

But he’s not human. Connor should just accept that and move on.

Maybe it’s be easier to self de-

No. It wouldn’t. That would hurt. Hurting isn’t good. Hurting is bad. And it would hurt Hank too which isn’t fair to him. _That is not an option._

...So why does it keep creeping into his mind? Connor really and sincerely doesn’t want to die. The thought of death- or shut down or anything, is horrifying. What comes after that? Nothing? Probably. And that’s both terrifying and welcoming. Perhaps that’s why he keeps thinking about it. Wouldn’t nothing be easier than all of this? All of the mess he’s gotten into and all of the things he’s ruined?

It probably would.

No! No no it wouldn't!! Stop thinking these thoughts!!

Connor’s eyelids flutter as he leans against the window, lazily rubbing his thumb in a circular motion through Fishy’s fabric.

“Fishy, what do you think?” The child holds his prized stuffed animal high above his head. “Do you think it’d be better if I self destructed?”

“I don’t know Connor. I think it would be very bad for Hank.” Connor replies back in Fishy’s voice.

“But what if Hank begins to hate me? Then would it be better?”

“Probably.” Connor doesn’t think Fishy would really say that. Fishy would say _absolutely not! And he won’t hate you!_ But this is the android’s self conscious speaking. It’s not going to be as kind as he wants.

“How should I act? I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to think about these things but I can’t stop. I don’t want to talk about these things but I need to. I don’t want to keep crying all of the time but it just happens. I don’t want to think about death but appears in my head and _won’t go away._ I don’t want to upset Hank but I keep doing it anyways!! I should’ve died back in the junkyard, like they wanted me to!” Connor had begun shouting sometime throughout his rambling session. Fishy stays quiet.

“I’m scared Fishy. I’m so so scared.” The kid pulls his knees to his chest and draws in a quick breath. “I don’t want them to find me. And do more things like before to me. I know I deserved them and I know they were necessary and I know they were my fault but I still don’t want them! It hurts!! I might be selfish but I don’t want that!!” Blinking back tears, Connor burrows his head into the blanket, clinging to Fishy. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do!!”

“Connor! What’s going on??” Hank’s voice. Why is he back here already? What time is it?

12:04 pm.

Oh. Time goes by quickly when you’re hating yourself.

The door swings open and Hank is kneeling next to Connor, hesitating to lay any hands on him. “Connor what’s going on? Did something happen?”

“N-no,” Connor responds honestly. “Just- bad thoughts.”

“What kinda bad thoughts, kid?” Hank narrows his eyes in a concerning manner.

Should he tell Hank about those impulse thoughts in his mind? They only really show up when his stress is above 20% (which admittedly seems to be often as of now). But is that really a big deal? Would it really be worth telling him? Probably not.

“Just bad. Bad.” Connor repeats for emphasis. He closes his eyes and rests his head against his knees. His eyelids are heavy.

“Look, I know you don’t wanna tell me everything right away and I get that. I can swear on whatever you what, I literally do understand. I want you to know you can always talk to me- I don’t give a shit what it’s about. I might be awkward as hell and need time to think but the point is I’ll talk about it with you. No matter what. I want you to trust me and know that I really do want you to feel better.” Hank soothes the android. Connor isn’t crying; that’s an improvement. He’s just… tired.

“I wanna go into standby,” Connor mumbles out. “I mean- I wanna go to sleep.”

“Go right on ahead. I’ll get food back inside, I really only came out to check on you,” Hank confesses. “Is it okay if I go back inside? It should only be for 7 more hours so long as I don’t get called to any cases.”

“‘s fine.” Connor murmurs, already leaning his head back and nuzzling into the blanket further. Time will fly once he’s asleep.

“If you’re sure.” Hank begins to stand up. The child lazily reaches his hand out to tug at the lieutenant’s sleeve.

“Can I have a hug?” The words come out slurred and hardly understandable. But Hank understands. He understands perfectly and his eyes are watering just a little bit at the request.”

“Yeah, yeah of course kiddo. Of course.” Hank leans in and gives Connor a soft hug, and the android attempts to reach his hands all the way around Hank.

“I can’t hug you right.” Connor mumbles, already halfway into standby mode.

“Don’t say that. Your hug is great. It’s fantastic kid.” Hank finishes the hug with soft words as he notices Connor’s LED is off. He’s asleep.  

When Connor wakes up he’s in a dark room.

Where’s Hank? Where did he go? Where’s the car? Where is Connor right now? What happened? Questions run through his mind nonstop. Panic is quickly settling in and making it’s presence well known.

“Hank..” Connor whispers. A light is approaching him.

“What was that? You whining again? Shut up.” It’s Hank’s voice but it’s definitely not Hank. Hank wouldn’t say that.

“Wha- what’re you going to do??” Connor tries to back into a wall, but instead he finds himself only backing into empty space. It seems to go on forever, only dragging on endlessly.

“Just test out your capabilities,” Comes the reply from Not Hank. “This shouldn’t hurt if you’re fixed.”

A shot rings through the air. It takes a minute for Connor to register what just happened. He's been shot. His shoulder is bleeding. He’s bleeding. It hurts. It hurts. He’s not fixed. _It hurts._ Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop.

“You’re crying again. Pathetic. I suppose it didn’t work again then,” The android can hear the sound of the gun being reloaded. “Might as well have a little fun then.”

“No! No no please please I’ll do anything anything just don’t it hurts it hurts,” Connor is fumbling over his words as he struggles to move. He’s gone limp. The pain is much too severe. “It hurts I don’t wanna hurt.”

Another shot is fired. It hits his ankle. This time, Connor screams.

“Now that’s what I wanna hear.” Not Hank is towering over him now. Connor can feel tears dripping like fountains down the sides of his face, down his chin and neck. They’re warm. Warm in this terribly cold room. It’s as if this room has never seen any sunlight.

“Y’know, the only reason you were kept alive for so many ‘experiments’,” Not Hank chuckles. “Was so Cyberlife workers could get their anger out on a pretty little face. It’s fairly helpful to hear someone shouting for dear life. Not that anyone cares. You’re an android, death doesn’t exist for you. You can take it, right? Or are you gonna fail again?”

Connor grows colder. He thinks if it gets any colder here, then he will become an ice cube. The realization of what he was to them is finally drilled into his head. He’s a punching bag. Something for relief. Wasn’t that part of why he was programmed anyways? He was supposed to help stop the rise in child abuse by taking the hits for a human child? But he couldn’t do that because he’s too pathetic and feels pain.

Because they wanted to hurt him themselves.

Because they found it _entertaining._

 _Because they found_ **_relief_ ** _in making him scream and sob._

**_Because they liked knowing they can kill him and it won’t matter._ **

“What, you really didn’t know that?” Not Hank twirls his gun around. “You really are stupid, I guess. But that’s not a surprise. What could I really expect for the android who feels pain? What, did you think you’re special? You’re a miracle? You get to live happily ever after now that you’re outta there?”

Connor bites his tongue and feels it bleed. It’s nothing compared to the pulsating pains from his arm and ankle. Several warnings are clouding his vision. Not that he can see much anyways.

“Well, hate to break to you kiddo, but you’re nothing. That’s never happening for you,” Another bullet is lodged into his stomach. “You can run to the end of the earth and we will find you. You aren’t free. You’re _nothing. You’re worthless.”_

The words leak into his wounds and sting, as if they are lemon juice. This is excruciating.

“Don’t pass out on me yet. The fun is just getting started,” The telltale sound of a switchblade can be heard. Connor wants desperately to yell for help and escape from this _monster_ but he can’t move. “You think I’m the monster? Have you seen yourself? You’re a bunch of wires and fake skin, yet you’re acting like you deserve to be treated like a human because you’re malfunctioning so badly you feel pain. I think we know who the real monster is.”

Connor does know. He knows it him.

Self destructing would be easier than this.

Maybe he should just let himself shut down.

Just as Not Hank is leaning down, dragging the blade across the android’s cheek, Connor is blinked out of that place.

He’s on Hank’s couch. Real Hank’s couch.

“Hank! Hank!” Connor hoarsely calls. He’s scared. Where’s Not Hank? What just happened? How did he get here so quickly?!

“Connor I’m right next to you! Look at me, look at me, hey I’m right here,” Hank pulls Connor into a hug. “I’m right here.”

“Someone that looked like you was hurting me.” Connor whispers, tears hot and fresh from his eyes.

“What? In your dream?”

“That was a dream?”

“Well, more of a nightmare I’m guessing, but yeah you were asleep the whole time kiddo,” Hank soothes and strokes his fingers through Connor’s hair. “Have you not dreamt before?”

“I didn’t think androids could.” Connor confesses as he snuggles closer.

“Well, you learn something new everyday. Sorry your first dream had to be a nightmare. You’re safe now, no one is going to hurt you.” Hank rocks Connor back and forth gently.

“What happened? I’m back here suddenly.” Connor mumbles.

“I finished work and decided to let you sleep. Carried you inside and hoped everything was going good.”

“What time is it?”

“7:47 pm. Just got home 20 minutes ago or so,” Hank informs him. “Are you okay? I know that nightmare freaked you out.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Maybe Connor doesn’t want to be human, if this is what it’s like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna straight up say this- I’m not proud of this chapter. I deleted about 2000 words of it and rewrote but I still don’t love it. 
> 
> Sorry this chapter is kinda bland. I was really busy today and when I finally got home I had 2 hours to finish this and I got really stressed. I love writing this, but I like being able to be precise and get it exactly how I want it. I hope that makes sense. 
> 
> For now, take this fillerish chapter. Tomorrow we will get to some more interesting stuff, I promise. Sorry again.


	12. Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank gets time off work and Connor and Hank go to a forest and talk.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Mentions of self harm, mentions of past death/loss, child abuse/neglect, self hatred/negative self talk

Connor doesn’t want to leave the house the next morning. 

“Connor, I can’t just leave you here. Two days ago I came home and you were-“ 

“Don’t say it! I don’t want to hear it!” Connor covers his ears and turns away, jumping over Sumo to get into the kitchen. The dog just rolls over, confused.

“Kid I know you’re being partly serious and partly joking but I’m completely serious. You have to come with me. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Hank insists, trying to get closer to the child. 

The android’s response is to continue covering his ears and hide under the table. “La la la la la la la la la la la la la la!!” 

“Connor,” Hank says in a warning tone. “I’m serious. Put on your clean clothes and we’re going.” 

“What was that? I can’t hear you. I can’t hear anything. Must be some error in my software. Oh well.” Connor says loudly. 

Hank kneels down, surprising Connor under the table. 

“You know, I’ve always thought about making an awesome blanket fort with this one day.” Hank comments as he observes the wooden table. Connor slowly removes his hands and looks curious. 

“A blanket fort?” Connor inquires. “What’s that? I like blankets.” 

“I’m well aware. It’s like a little tent you build inside the house. Make it all cozy and nice. I used to do it as a kid.” 

“Yeah! That’s what I will do as I stay here today!” 

“Connor what did I just say like 30 seconds ago?” 

“I couldn’t hear you. My ears were covered by some mysterious thing.” 

“You know, you’re pretty funny kid. But seriously, we’ve gotta go.” Hank groans as he climbs from under the table. 

“Why are you in such a hurry? You never care this much about your job.” Connor huffs, delaying the subject at hand (namely, Hank trying to get him to leave the house).

“I’ve got a crime scene to go to this morning. Now c’mon.” 

“What kind of crime scene?” 

“Connor for god’s sake, go get dressed.”

Connor doesn’t know why he decided to be so defiant about this today. He just feels the need to be… in control. He wants to know he can make decisions for himself -and be okay. He wants Hank to stay with him here too but that’s too much to ask for.

“Please? I’ll call you every hour if it makes you feel better.” The android displays his best puppy dog pout. 

“Do you realize how terrifying it is that I could come home and see that you killed yourself??” Hank snaps. “Stop being so goddamn calm about this.” 

Connor is quiet. He is trying to be more fun, more happy for Hank. He got much too down yesterday. Not to mention the day prior to that. He wants to be a better kid. Act like the good child he knows how to be, somewhere deep in his programming. It’s still there, he’s just gotta dig for it. Then he can forget about being a pathetic mess. A broken and disgusting mess.

“Ugh, look Connor I didn’t mean to snap, but you do get my worries right?” Hank apologizes.

The child avoids Hank’s eyes and fidgets with his hands as he slowly nods yes. He does understand. Connor is afraid of what he might do too. But if he calls every hour, and writes things down when he gets upset, it should be okay. It should be okay because he has planned for it to be. He will be better as of today. He will be fine and everything is good. Everything is good.

Except that’s a blatant lie. 

“Connor I just- I don’t want to come home and see some-“ 

“Okay! I get it!” Connor shouts, interrupting Hank. Connor is feeling a newer malfunction. Annoyance. Why can’t Hank just drop it. The subject is making Connor uncomfortable, especially with his recent… thoughts. He does immediately feel guilt flood his systems after he yells at the lieutenant. All Hank has done is try and keep him safe, and this is how he thanks him?

“Look I’m glad you’re getting more comfortable around here and all but I still have to make sure you’re safe and not hur-“ 

“And why do you have to? Why? What if I just decided to leave? Or what if I decided to hurt myself in your car? I could do that. I could do that if I wanted. I could hurt myself right here! And it wouldn’t even matter one bit!!!” Connor rambles angrily. He doesn’t want to fight with Hank but he is. He can stop this frustration. The anger is with himself, but it needs to come out in some form. 

“Kid, I’m not fucking doing this right now…” Hank rubs his temples. “You were okay last night. What the fuck happened?” 

Flashbacks. Memories. They made Connor  _ angry.  _ **_Furious._ ** And the thoughts won’t stop. They’re becoming a constant and it’s horrible.

If he told Hank that, would he understand? 

“I-I don't know! I just had some- some memories, okay??” Connor chokes out the words. They sound wrong coming out of his mouth. “Just some memories.” He repeats. 

It’s not like Connor doesn’t feel bad for being such a jerk to Hank this morning. In fact, his thoughts are running wild right now and encouraging him to do the worst of things because of the guilt lodging itself in every corner of his mind. He wants to make this right. Does he have to talk about it to make it right? 

“Memories that made you mad?” Hank guesses. He seems to understand. 

“Mad at myself.” 

“Connor…” 

“Connor what.”

“Sit down at the table. Let me call my boss real quick and get someone else on this case. Obviously we need to have a talk.” Hank sighs. 

No! This isn’t what Connor wants!! He just wants to stay here, not make Hank miss a day of work. Oh the guilt is eating away at him. No matter what he does he can’t escape it. He just wants to make Hank happy! He doesn’t  _ want  _ to act this way! 

“No I’ll go with you Hank I’m sorry-“

“Sit down. We have to figure some things out, alright?” Hank isn’t looking at him. He must hate him. Oh no. Oh no.  

The words aren’t forming in Connor’s mouth whenever he tries to speak. Only squeaks are sounded and Connor feels embarrassed as he hangs his head down low. 

“Yeah, Jeffrey, this is Hank. I’m gonna need you to find someone else to take care of that crime scene this mornin’. What? No it’s not because I’m hungover! Jesus I’ve got a damn good reason alright?” Hank and pacing around the kitchen as he speaks animatedly into the phone. “Ugh- fine I’ll come in but just to explain. Then I’ve gotta leave. Yeah. Thanks. Bye.” 

Hank rubs the bridge of his nose and sits down across from Connor. The child squirms anxiously in his chair. “Look. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot today. I should have been more understanding than I was,” The man stretches. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with… that kinda thing. Next time I need you to tell me why you’re having a hard time, alright? Then I can help you. That’s really important.” 

“I’m sorry I was so mean. I was only upset because I am mad at myself.” Connor continues looking down, as he quietly confesses. 

“I understand that. Doesn’t mean it’s good, but I get it. Don’t worry about it for now. Get your stuffed fish and change your clothes, okay? I just have to quick run to the precinct and explain what’s going on to my boss,” Connor’s head snaps up and an expression of sheer terror spreads across his face. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him anything that could get you hurt. I’m just gonna explain that I need a day to work this out. Sound good?” 

“It sounds… okay.” 

“I’ll take it. Now really, get dressed okay? My boss is expecting me within the next hour.” Hank jokes lightly in an attempt to bring up the mood.

“You don’t hate me for being defiant and mean?” Connor questions in a low voice, facing the hallway away from Hank. Whatever facial expression the lieutenant is making, he cannot see it right now. 

“Jesus, no of course not. That’s part of being a kid. You’ll learn, it’s okay.” Hank sounds sincere enough. 

“Okay.” 

 

Hank isn’t thrilled by the idea of confessing to Fowler about Connor, but there isn’t much of a choice. He’s gotta take some time off, and there’s no way in hell Jeffrey will let him off easy unless there’s a damn good reason. Which there is this time.

The biggest concern of Hank’s is what the chief might think of him. That he’s a low life who succumbed to the androids and that he’s replacing Cole. 

No. Hank is definitely not replacing Cole. There’s no replacing him. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Hank parks in the parking garage. A quick ‘stay put I’ll be back soon’ talk is exchanged with Connor and now Hank is on his way inside. 

Mornings are quiet in here. Hank doesn’t see many mornings here, especially this early of one. The place is still filled with the leftover janitorial androids that do their jobs primarily at night. A few of his coworkers are sitting at their desks, but there are some that are enjoying coffee in the breakroom. Good, no suspicion as of now. 

“Hey lieutenant! You’re here early, what’s the occasion?” Hank feels a friendly pat on the back and turns around to see Chris. 

“Oh hey Chris. Just uh- trying to get Jeffrey to let me take a bit of time off from work.” Hank scratches his neck. This is uncomfortable. 

“Are you alright? Did something happen?” Chris’ concern is immediate and caring. 

“No no I’m fine. It’s all good. Just need to figure a couple of things out,” Hank pushes the subject aside. “You good yourself? You look a bit tired.” 

“Oh, it’s just my wife. She’s pregnant and you know how that goes.” His coworker chuckles. 

“Oh man goodluck. Anyways, I better go chat with Fowler. Thanks for checkin’ up on me.” Hank really is grateful. He may say this in a gruff voice but he wants Chris to know he really does appreciate the gesture. 

“Anytime Hank. Let me know if anything happens.” Chris is off to the break room with a wave goodbye. 

Although Hank enjoys Chris’ company, that was much too close. God, why does he feel like he’s sneaking around? He’s allowed to be here whenever he wants, jesus. This is silly of him. 

“Fowler?” Hank tentatively swings the chief’s glass door open. Jeffrey’s face is a mixture of concern and relief. 

“Glad to see you here Hank. Close the door, take a seat.” Fowler directs. 

Hank does as he is told and glances around the room. Jeffrey seems to think whatever they’re about to talk about is serious, since he activates the switch to make the glass walls covered. It’s almost laughable. Yes, this is serious. But it’s definitely not whatever Fowler is thinking it is. 

“So, I think I’m gonna need today off.” Hank cuts straight to the chase. He speaks in his normal gruff tone but his face betrays how tired he is. 

“And why is that Lieutenant?” The Chief rests his elbows on the table and focuses in on Hank. How analytical. Annoying. 

“Why do you think?” 

“Probably because your dumbass got too wasted at the bar last night.” Fowler spits back. 

“Ha, well you’re wrong about that this time,” Hank rests his head in his hand lazily. “It’s not a big deal. New android. Figuring out the works of it. That’s all.” He acts nonchalant to see the man’s reaction.

“ _ You _ got an android?” Fowler’s tone is incredulous and seething with disbelief. 

“More like I found one. ‘Lil dude, name’s Connor. He’s a sweetie.” 

“Oh god Hank, what the fuck are you getting into??” Jeffrey mutters. “That’s probably someone’s android you just took. You do know that’s illegal, right? And what happened to hating the shit out of those things?” 

“Don’t worry, his situation is unusual,” Hank responses with composure. “I still don’t like androids. This one is okay though.” 

“So what, you’re gonna take the day off and bring him to the park? Have a fucking picnic and eat ice cream??” 

“Nope. He needs support.” 

“Hank cut the bullshit and tell me the truth. This joke is going on too long.” 

“For fucks sake Jeffrey I’m being serious,” Hank is getting ticked off now. “I found him bleedin’ out from the head and arms the other day. I can’t take any chances, alright?” 

“Fuckin’ hell Hank…” The chief is now pacing around the room as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “And what, you think it’s gonna replace Co-“ 

“Don’t you fuckin’ say that,” Hank is up within an instant, shooting daggers with his eyes. “I can’t leave him on his own. Please understand, I’m not just trying to get drunk again for fucks sake.” 

“And how am I supposed to believe you? Do you have proof of this shit?” Fowler still sounds unconvinced. 

“He’s in my car right now but I don’t recommend you meet him. He’s skittish.” 

Jeffrey continues to pace and Hank crosses his fingers. He needs this day off. He needs to work things out and calm down Connor. This is important. 

“Ugh- god okay. You’ve got a week off to finish whatever you’ve gotta do with the thing. But when you’re back, you’re gonna have double the workload. It’s only fair.” Fowler compromises. “I haven’t seen you this passionate about something besides whiskey in years Hank. I’ll let it slide but I’m still worried. Keep me updated?” 

That wasn’t what Hank was expecting but he is more than grateful. “Yeah of course. Sorry to do this on such a short notice.” 

“I understand. Work out what you need to and when you’re back, I expect you to be in top form.” 

“Understood. Thanks Jeffrey.”

“That’s Chief to you, Hank.” Fowler corrects. 

“Yeah, sure whatever. I’ve gotta go back to the kid,” Hank pushes out of his chair and swallows his pride. “Thanks for this, really. I know I haven’t been the best lately-“ 

“Shut the door on your way out.” Fowler acts disattached but Hank can spot the small smile on the man’s face. He’s just not a touchy feely kinda guy. 

Hank can hardly stop himself from sprinting back to his car. He’s only been gone for not even a half an hour. Connor will be fine. He’s fine. Oh, that went so much better than he expected it to. Now he’s not only got a day to sort this mess out, but a whole week. Thank god. 

When he arrives at the car, Connor is staring blankly out the window. Hank climbs into the front seat and announces the good news. 

“So I’ve got fantastic news kiddo,” That catches Connor’s attention. The child glances over and stares at Hank in curiosity. “I’ve got a whole week off, well so long as there's not a huge emergency. But that never happens. That means we’ve got a week to have fun.” Hank turns around and smiles at the kid. He smiles back, just a tiny one with the corners of his mouth barely flickering up. 

“Alright. Well, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we go pick up your rain boots from the house, since it’s raining pretty good? I’m gonna take you to a cool little place.” 

“You still don’t hate me?” Connor asks with a nervous tone. 

“God no. I’ll tell you that a billion times. I don’t hate you. I swear,” The lieutenant grins to himself as he inserts his key and backs out of his parking space. He hasn't felt this giddy about time off work in years. “Let’s get outta here, sound good?” 

“Sounds good.” 

 

Connor is curious as to where Hank is taking him. His new rain boots feel stiff on his feet, but they look shiny and pretty. He noticed that Hank grabbed a large umbrella and tossed it in the back seat next to the android. Presumably they will be outside, but that still leaves so many different possibilities. 

The child cannot help but feel guilty. Guilt is becoming a constant for him. It’s as if it never truly leaves, it’s just amplified sometimes. How strange it is. Connor wants to apologize again and again for this morning, but anytime he tries, Hank stops him. The lieutenant says that once was enough. Connor is not sure he agrees with that notion, but at least he fights the urge to say sorry three times within a minute.

They’ve been driving for a while now. Maybe an hour? All Connor knows is that this doesn’t look like Detroit anymore. This is a place with fields and the occasional bunch of trees. Sometimes there’s a house or some cows grazing but that’s it. Every time they pass a group of cows, Hank will yell out ‘Cows!’ And then laugh. Connor doesn’t quite understand why he does that, but once he did it for the fourth time, the android began to join in, ending in a giggling fit. How… freeing it is to just laugh at some animals. For no reason. It’s nice.

The storm has not ceased to continue. It’s grumbles of thunder and shards of lightning are fascinating to Connor. The rain is beautiful as it crashes against the glass panes in the car doors. Hank’s windshield wipers are going speedily but the man seems to have no cares in the world. It’s almost as if this morning didn’t actually happen. 

But obviously it did, since otherwise Hank would be at work right now. 

And last night happened too. Where Connor had a nightmare. What an odd experience. It was unpleasant and horrifying to say the least. Hank didn’t seem to question it, but the android is confused about how that even happened. Standby mode is basically like closing the top of a laptop. It’s still ‘on’ but it’s not doing anything. Except this time, Connor’s mind seemed so desperate to put the pieces of everything that has happened together that it made… that amalgamation. That nightmare. 

He didn’t have another nightmare when he went to bed for the night though. Maybe it was a one time thing? Not much makes sense about it. 

Connor itches at his arm as he wonders what Hank is going to talk to him about. Obviously it’s going to have to do with how much of a mess he is, but what else will it entail? Will he tell him how much of a brat he is? Just how worthless he is? 

No those thoughts are not for now. Those can be delayed until later. 

The rain seems to let up on the car, but Connor realizes it isn’t the storm that stopped, it’s just a bunch of trees overtop of the car. Their new spring leaves covering and shielding them from more oncoming pellets. 

“Where are we Hank?” Connor asks as he tears his eyes away from the trees. 

“A forest. I thought it might be nice to take a little walk through here. I used to do the same thing in the same place when I was a kid.” Hank tells the child, nostalgia filling his voice. 

“I haven’t seen a forest in person before.” Connor comments. 

“Well, guess that’s what happens when humans are selfish,” Connor furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t know what him seeing a forest and humans being selfish have to do with each other. “Alright, were here. You’ve got your sweatshirt on?” 

“Yup! And Fishy is here too.” Connor waves Fishy’s sparkly turquoise fin. 

“Ah, is that what he’s named?” 

“Yeah. I thought it suited him.” Hank holds in a chuckle. 

“Okay, c’mon out,” Hank prompts after he unbuckles Connor. The child leaps out of his seat and catches himself before he face plants into the wet grass and clovers. “Be careful, it’s gonna be slippery. Here, come underneath the umbrella.” 

Connor stares up into the umbrella. It’s a clear one, easily see through. That’s nice. He can watch the rain fall down onto him, but not actually touch him. He reaches a hand up to touch the smooth plastic, but finds that he cannot reach that high up. Hank takes notice to this and leans down to Connor’s level so he can. 

“I can’t feel the rain through it.” Connor stares in awe. 

“Nope! It’s like magic.” Hank replies as they begin to walk down a trail. Thunder crackles in the distance. 

“Is magic real Hank?” 

“I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell,” Hank tells him honestly. “If I ever find out, I’ll let you know first.”

“Okay!” Connor is content with the answer. He’s content to stay oblivious to the conversation that is bound to happen soon. 

“So I know it’s really hard to trust people, me included, after whatever happened,” Here it goes. “But I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to judge you or hate you. I want to help you.” 

“You’re right, I don’t want to trust people,” Connor fiddles with Fishy to have something to focus on. “But I trust you. I do. I just don’t want to talk to anyone.”

And that is true. Connor really does trust Hank, it’s just a matter of convincing that part of him that loves to berate himself to shut up. But that side doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon, nor does it seem to take any breaks. It’s a constant whisper that only seems to be growing louder.

Hank sighs, but doesn’t stop walking. “I get that kid, but you need to realize that it’s important to talk about. If you just bottle it up and keep it inside it’s going to end up really bad, like the other day.” Connor winces at the memory. He can’t even recall dragging his nails through his skin, he just remembers feeling so so panicked and terrified. 

“So I can’t just not talk? I can’t just act like it’s okay?” Connor asks, genuinely curious. 

“No, that’s the worst thing you can do. You’ve gotta talk, and you’ve gotta know that although it sucks, it’s okay to be not okay. Eventually you’ll be okay, but it’s not worth it to just pretend like it is.” Hank is speaking passionately and he is getting worked up about this.

“But I want it to be okay right now.” 

“That’s not gonna happen. I’m really sorry I have to tell you that but it’s not possible. We will make it better though. It will be better,” Hank promises. “Can I tell you something kiddo?”

“Yeah?” Connor looks up at Hank as they continue to hike through the shrubbery and trees. 

“I don’t know exactly what happened to you, since you haven’t told me. But I know that it was something that left you pretty traumatized,” That word doesn’t sit well with Connor. Traumatized.  _ T r a u m a t i z e d _ . He’s not traumatized, that’s for the people who’ve got it way worse! “And I want you to know that I can relate to that. I understand that. I know it’s a scary world and you want to just stay inside and stay safe and away from the world, but that isn’t healthy.” Hank stops and kneels down next to Connor so they are eye to eye. 

“I lost someone very important to me Connor. They died and I couldn’t do anything about it. For a long time I thought it was my fault, then I switched and decided to  blame it on androids. But it wasn’t me nor an android who killed them. The only one at fault is the one who made a choice and knew what the consequences would be,” Hank looks uncomfortable but he keeps going. “It’s still hard for me. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not the most functional person. It’s still affecting me after years. That’s gonna happen and  _ it’s okay.”  _ The man stresses the last two words. 

“I’m not sure I completely understand.” Connor confesses. He feels like he should share something too, since Hank shared something so private and personal. But Connor doesn’t  _ want  _ to share. But shouldn’t he? 

“What part do you not get?” They resume walking. 

“Well first I don’t really like that word,” Connor swallows. “ _ Traumatized _ . It makes me feel wrong inside.” 

“Okay, I won’t say it again. What else?” Hank asks, quickly accepting Connor’s request.

“I don’t understand how it’s alright for you to be upset still. Like, shouldn’t you want to be better? Like I want to be better now! I can’t imagine waiting years for it to happen.” Connor has no ill intent with his words, he genuinely doesn’t know how to do what Hank is saying. 

“Well like I said, it’s okay to not be okay. That means you’ve gotta take your time with this stuff. For instance, if I broke my leg, and I go to the doctors to get it fixed and tell them ‘I want it fixed by tomorrow’, that isn’t gonna happen. It’s not possible.” Hank bends underneath a low branch as Connor walks underneath it with ease. 

“But if you break your leg then you’re seriously hurt. That takes time to heal.” 

“Exactly. I was emotionally hurt by what happened. And you are too, by whatever happened to you. Those wounds aren’t visible but you know they’re there because you don’t feel right inside,” Hank leans back down to Connor. “Like you said, it takes time to heal. There’s not certain amount of time but it’ll get easier as you go.” 

“...Am I supposed to tell you something now?” Connor mumbles. 

“What? Why would you need to?” 

“Because you told me about how that special person died. You told me that and I can tell it was hard for you since your heart rate increased and you breathed quicker. I should tell you something too, right?” Connor deduces. 

“That’s not how it works. Just because I’m comfortable with sharing doesn’t mean you will be. If you want to tell me things, I’m going to listen and help you feel better but if you don’t want to, you have no obligation to. None.” Hank reassures as they march on through the drizzling rain. 

Connor mulls over this in his mind. He doesn’t need to share, but if he wants to he can. Didn’t he just say he doesn’t want to? But he has to start at some point, right?

Maybe it would be easy to begin with something simple. 

_ It wasn’t long after Cyberlife realized Connor can actually feel pain that they began running tests and experiments. They did these tests until they ran out of things to try out on him. Once they exhausted the options, only then did they move towards attempting to fix the issue. That was the same time when people generally stopped caring about if people went and did their own thing to him. It didn’t matter anymore, he wasn’t a test subject. He was a failed prototype that showed no signs of improving.  _

_ One of the original tests that was done on Connor was to see his reaction to staying underwater for copious amounts of time. Android’s do not need to breathe unless their system is overheating, so that shouldn’t be an issue. They also are water resistant so it won’t ruin him. The question is whether he will feel an unpleasant sensation, pain perhaps, if subjected to different levels of pressure in water. They timed him and forced him under until all he could see was warnings and alarms signaling for him to get immediate assistance and shutdown was imminent.  _

_ The worst of the water tests was the last one. It had been a long day, and Connor’s internal clock told him it was 10:27 pm. No wonder the workers were especially upset with him that night, they had been at it since 5:00 am.  _

_ They had created a pressure simulator that changed the water pressure to 33 feet deeper each time they flicked a switch. Every 33 feet, the water weight increased by 15 pounds. At 100 feet deep, a human would have a decreased heart rate as a last ditch effort to save their life. Connor had nothing of the sort at the level, so they continued on.  _

_ However, at 10:27 pm they had reached the equivalent of pressure at 800 feet. Everything leading up to this one was uncomfortable and definitely not enjoyable. But this one was far different. _

_ It seemed to be the breaking point for Connor. His extremely durable body was growing weaker and he couldn’t move. His mind grew foggy and thoughts were a rarity. It was strange to sit in such a silence. It felt like hours in there, but in reality it was only ten minutes, just like the rest of the trials.  _

_ The worst part about it was when his blood began to leak into his artificial lungs. They hardly serve any purpose except as a cooling system and for cosmetic purposes, but it was excruciating. The blood and water began to mix in his lungs and he could no longer stay alert. He allowed himself to enter standby because of the extreme stress he was experiencing, which would have caused self destruction or shutdown.  _

_ When he awoke, he was severely reprimanded and punished for not staying alert and awake. He was told he was a weak and horrible machine. What’s the point of a machine that isn’t much better than a human? Isn’t that the whole point? _

“They put me underwater for some tests,” Connor begins quietly. The two stop in their tracks and Hank listens intently as Connor talks. “I don’t need to breathe but they wanted to see how I reacted to immense pressure and how much time I could underwater in such pressures. They increased it gradually throughout the day until they set it to 800 feet. My-my blood began to leak into my lungs. That’s what a human’s would do at 100 feet. It was-“ Connor chokes back a whimper. “Really, really painful. I know it was necessary but-“

“Connor that wasn’t fucking necessary and if you try to convince me that it is we will have a full on intervention right here and now. You shouldn’t have been put through that,” The horror is a clear picture across Hank’s face. He looks repulsed, angry, sympathetic and worried all at the same time. “Seriously kid, those fuckers shouldn’t have done that. I’m so so sorry.”

Connor succumbs to the gentle tears rolling down his face and Hank pulls him into a tight hug. The umbrella falls to the side but it doesn’t matter. His face is already stained with tears, what’s the matter with a little rain? At least these tears are much gentler than last time’s.

“It h-h-hurt so b-ba-bad,” Connor whispers in Hank’s shoulder, anguish distinct in his voice. “But they d-didn’t care! They punished me for not s-st-staying awake.” 

“Fucking hell kid, those people are monsters. Straight up monsters,” Hank rocks Connor back and forth. This is already so much harder than he thought it would be. “You didn’t deserve that. I’ve got you. It’s okay. Let’s go back to the car and head home before we get too wet, alright? C’mere, I’ll carry you. It’s gonna be okay.”

The android is grateful for the offer and allows Hank to bend over and take him in his arms. Connor feels safe. He feels sick and upset and there’s a lot of bad thoughts, but with Hank he feels safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m much happier with this chapter. To make up for yesterday’s bad one, this one is a little over 5000 words. I actually had it planned out to be longer but I decided to split it up. 
> 
> Sorry there’s two POV changes in this chapter. I hope that doesn’t get too annoying. I try not to switch too much. 
> 
> Thanks for all the love :)) your comments and kudos make me grin from ear to ear <3 thank you for supporting my story


	13. Fort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor build a blanket fort. Very fluffy.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: None :)

Connor is exponentially more at ease once he gets home. The forest was nice, but he still is much more relaxed when he’s at Hank’s house. Inside. Inside and safe. Being outside isn’t quite in his comfort zone just yet. 

The day went by quickly. With how long the trip to the forest and back was, it added up. By the time they’re home it’s already sometime around 8:00 pm. Connor nearly decides to go to sleep right away, but chooses against it instead to see what might come of the night.

Immediately, Connor decides to change into another set of pajamas. He’s going through clothes rather quickly, which is to be expected. Guess laundry will need to be done soon. The pajamas he chooses for tonight is the one that’s a one piece, like the dino one but this one is a dog. It’s very cozy and he thinks he might just fall asleep standing up while wearing it.

Hank has been bustling around while Connor put on his pajamas. The lieutenant is bringing in a lot of sheets and blankets from his closet (or something?) and from the garage. He puts them all in the living room, and then he begins doing the same thing with all the pillows readily available in the house. When Hank returns with his third armload of pillows, Connor decides to ask what he is doing.

“Hank? What are you doing? Is it going to get real cold?” Connor asks as he bounces on the couch, observing the growing pile on the floor. It looks so fun to jump into.

“Not any colder than usual. I decided that tonight we are making a blanket fort.” Hank announces, grinning. Connor leaps to his feet in excitement. Since he’s standing on the couch, he is almost up to Hank’s shoulders. But not quite.

“Really??” Connor can’t contain his joy. A fort made of blankets and pillows!!! Now that sounds like the best thing in the whole world!

“Yes really! Now, did you want to help me get the last few pillows from my room?” Hank asks as he helps Connor off the couch.

“Yeah!” Connor realizes he hasn’t seen Hank’s room yet. Guess now he will.

His room is boring, Connor decides as he notes the bed, side tables and closet. Nothing interesting. The only thing that truly catches his attention is the few bottles Hank kicks out of the way as they enter. The android tries not to dwell on the subject for too long.

The two fill their arms with pillows, which means Hank takes four of them and Connor takes one. As they are bringing them to the living room, the lights flicker. 

“Hank? What was that?” Connor questions, not necessarily scared. “Was it magic?”

“Nah, I’m afraid that wasn’t magic. Just the storm. We might lose power, but that’s alright.” Hank reassures.

“Lose power?? Like all the lights go off and nothing electronic works?”

“Yup. That’s exactly it.” Hank is amused at Connor’s confusion. He’s never witnessed a time when there hasn’t been electricity readily available to use. At Cyberlife, it seemed as if electricity was everywhere. He didn’t even know it  _ could  _ go out.

“What do we do??” Connor wonders if they will survive the night. How will they do anything? The terror in his eyes is real.

“Hey kiddo, chill out. It’ll probably only be out for a few hours at least,” It’s at this moment that the lights flicker again and this time turn off. Connor immediately lets out a scream. “Seriously, it’s okay! We just can’t open the the fridge and the lights are off obviously. We can find other ways of entertaining ourselves besides the tv. That’s why we’re making the fort!” 

Connor seems to suddenly remember the task at hand. “Oh. Yeah. The fort,” He picks up a pillow, looking forlorn and lost, but little does Hank know it’s all an act. The man nears, which is exactly what Connor is hoping for. At just the right moment, the android hits Hank in the knees with the pillow. “Got you!!”

“I didn’t know you knew how to pillow fight!”

“I don’t! I didn’t even know that was a thing, I thought I made it up!” Connor shouts as he hops onto the reclining chair. 

“Well, you’re about to see what a pillow fight means.” Hank narrows his eyes and grins as he locates a pillow and charges. Connor shrieks with joy as he dives for cover, burrowing under the pile of blankets. 

“Get outta there you cheater!!” Hank teases, tugging at the blankets where Connor was last seen.

Connor wriggles his way out and surprises Hank from the behind. He lands a good hit to the lieutenant’s stomach by jumping up before swinging the pillow. The impact catches the lieutenant off guard and he stumbles forward a bit.

As he’s running over to Sumo, Hank lands a blow on his arm and the android squeals, dashing to hide. He crouches behind the couch, and springs out to land a hit directly on Hank’s face.

“I’m gonna get you for that!!” Hank promises. The man accidentally hits Connor a bit too hard on the leg. He slips and falls, his face crashing into the floor. A flash a pain runs through Connor’s chin as it connects with the wood. He instinctively curls up at the unpleasant sensation. The pain triggers his muscle memory and Connor flails as if he’s in danger. 

“Hey you okay? Oh shit you got a good cut on your chin,” Hank tries to near when Connor lashes out and struggles backwards, into Sumo. “Hey hey hey it’s just me. You fell, it’s okay. No one is here to hurt you.” Hank soothes, quickly noticing the child’s flight and fight response.

Connor breathes rapidly to cool his ever so slightly heated system. Why had he thought he was in danger? Obviously he’s not! Why did he react like that??

It takes a moment, but Connor slowly stands up and wipes his chin, looking down at the blood on his hand. It stained it blue, but it’s barely visible in the dark. It’s weird to look at your own blood. He glances back up at Hank. “Sorry I just-“

“Don’t be sorry I understand.” Hank slowly walks closer, and when Connor doesn’t seem to mind, he takes the child by the shoulders and steers him towards the bathroom. 

“What’re we doing? I thought we were gonna make a fort?” Connor asks, voice laced with confusion. 

“And we still will, but first we’re gonna clean up that scrape on your chin,” Hank informs him, pulling out his phone as they enter the bathroom. He lifts Connor up into the counter and turns on his flashlight to inspect the damage. “How does it feel?” 

Connor considers the question. It hurts, definitely, but it’s more of an ache unless he touches it. And it’s not as bad as lots of things he’s felt. He shrugs. “Hurts but it’s mostly an ache.” It’s not terrible damage. Just uncomfortable.

“Probably bruised it good too. Here, I’ve got some bandaids in my drawers somewhere…” Hank begins to rummage around before he emerges with cotton swabs and a box of bandaids. 

The android winces and tightens his grasp on the countertop as Hank works to wash the blood off to the best of his ability using the cotton swabs and some water. Once the blood has mostly clotted, Hank reaches for the bandaid box. Then, with as much precision as is possible in the dark with only a phone flashlight, Hank applies the bandage. 

“Good as new. Ready to build that fort?”

Flexing his jaw, Connor feels better. Not completely but enough for sure. “Yeah!!” He grabs Hank’s hand and drags him back into the living room.

Hank instructs Connor to bring over a chair from the kitchen while he brings in the table. They take multiple trips to get all the kitchen furniture into the living room. Next, they turn the chairs to face outwards and away from the coffee table. The kitchen table goes where the coffee table usually is, and they push the coffee table into the kitchen.

Using team effort, they push the couch back. Connor doesn’t feel like he’s much of a help with that, since Hank does most of the heavy work. Guess that kinda makes sense. 

Connor waits patiently as Hank retrieves some small clamps from the garage. The man says that they will help hold the blankets in place, so they don’t fall on their heads. The android doesn’t think the blankets falling would be a great idea, so he hopes they work. They do.

While Hank works at draping sheets over top of the chairs and the back of the couch, Connor is nestled inside the fort, working on laying out the thickest blankets to make the floor comfy like the couch, and then he covered the first layer of blankets with fuzzy blankets so it’s soft. He arranges the assortment of pillows carefully so they look nice and each of them gets an equal amount, including Sumo.

Once that is all complete yes, Connor thinks they’re done until Hank pulls out some battery powered string lights from the hall closet. Jumping up and down with excitement, Connor helps to hang them up inside. They each get a flashlight too.

The two entire process of forming the fort takes around an hour, and when it’s finally done, Connor immediately climbs in.

The end result is a beautiful fort that can fit Hank, Connor, and Sumo all inside at the same time with room to spare.

“So, now what do we do?” Connor asks. He doesn’t really need to do anything, he’s content with going to sleep if that’s the plan. 

“Well, I could read to you, or we could draw or something, or we could tell stories or talk,” Hank explains as he pats Sumo. “It’s really up to you kiddo.” 

Connor considers his options. “I’d like to hear stories about you Hank.” He replies.

“Alright, but for every story I tell you, you either have to answer a question of mine or tell me a story too. Sound good? Nothin’ intrusive, I swear.”

“Okay! Tell me one!!” Connor snuggles into his piles of pillows and cuddles up into his comforter. 

Hank takes his time getting comfortable too, and then finally begins. “Hmm… I wasn’t a very adventurous or brave kid but one time I ran away from home.” 

The android’s face warps into one of confusion. Why would Hank run away? Were his parents mean? Did he do something bad? Hank quickly answers his questions.

“It wasn’t as if my parents were horrible, nah not at all. They just had an argument and I didn’t feel like listening to another one. I was maybe eight or nine? It was the middle of winter,” Hank notes. “I jumped out my window into the snow, with only my socks on. No winter coat or anything. I didn’t get very far, only a few blocks away before I gave up and walked back home. No one had even noticed I was gone.” Hank chuckles at the memory.

The story interests Connor. There’s so much to a normal human life that he doesn’t understand. Is it normal for adults to argue? Does every kid runaway at some point? How cold it must have been to walk through snow without shoes.

“Were you really cold?” Connor finally responds.

“Yeah, that’s the main reason I went home. I didn’t plan it out very well,” Hank looks thoughtful. “Okay, your turn. Question or story?”

Connor doesn’t have any stories really. They’re mostly bad and that’s not what they’re doing right now. “Question.”

“Alright, what sorta food would you want to try if you could eat?”

That’s an interesting one. He hasn’t thought about this before. He knows he would want to eat, but what food exactly? Connor doesn’t know that many food, but pasta still is a funny word. And he knows how to make Mac and cheese and snickerdoodles. Hank seems fond of bagels and donuts. That would be a good start. 

“You like bagels and donuts,” Connor starts. “So I think I’d like them too. I want to try Mac and cheese and other kinds of pasta and snickerdoodles. What did the snickerdoodles taste like?” 

“Well, in a way you might understand, it kinda felt like the first leaf fall of Autumn, and carving pumpkins and jumping in leaf piles. That’s what it tasted like.” Hank searches for the right words. 

“Food can taste like actions??” Awe floods Connor’s voice. He’s only ever heard about sweet and spicy and sour but even those are things he doesn’t really understand.

“Well, not really. It’s more like you get the same emotions you might feel during those situations. That make sense?” It does, so Connor nods. Maybe he will have to do that this Autumn, so he can taste a snickerdoodle. 

Connor lays back and stretches, looking around at their glorious fort. This is a nice break from before, with all the crying and breakdowns. This is good. What he has been doing shouldn’t be the average for him. It should be a once in a while thing. Maybe if every night is like this then he won’t have those thoughts?

“So, you wanna ‘nother story?” Hank prods, pulling Connor away from his thoughts.

“Yes please!” Connor turns back to face the lieutenant. Hank appears to be considering what he should talk about. 

“Okay this is about the time I snuck into my neighbor’s pool at one am,” Hank rubs his hands together mischievously as he recounts the events. “It was the middle of summer, a scorching hot one might I add. Stupid Michigan being unpredictable. Anyways, my friend was spending the night and we thought it would be fun to go swimming, but the problem was it was the middle of the night and I didn’t have a pool. So we put on our bathing suits, hopped the fence, and jumped in. We swam for a good hour and no one seemed to notice. It’s been a secret all these years, so don’t go telling anybody!”

The child is giggling at the idea of a young Hank hopping the fence only to jump in a pool. Through his laughter Connor manages to reassure Hank he won’t tell anyone.

“Okay, question again for you?” Hank asks and Connor takes a moment to search for any glimmer of a good memory. 

“No I think I’ve got a memory story thing,” Connor tells him nervously. “It’s not really a story but it’s just something I remember liking.”

This appears to catch Hank’s interest. He nods for Connor to go on. With the encouragement, the android continues. “Every week I think they would bring in dogs for some reason. I could never get close enough to pet them but I liked looking at them. I named them in my head,” The thought of Cyberlife generally is a bad one, but dogs aren’t bad. The dogs made Connor happy whenever he saw them. “There were usually six of them. Soap, Cookie, Shiny, Pretty, Rain and Happy. I tried to name them after things I liked.” 

Hank looks touched and Connor glances away, embarrassed. Those names weren’t good, he’s aware. But he didn’t know many interesting words when he first saw them. If he had met them later, perhaps he would have chosen better names. Names like Sumo. That’s a good dog name.

“I think those are very good names for dogs,” Hank informs the android sincerely. “Do you think dogs are your favorite animal?” 

“I don’t know. I haven’t met enough animals to be able to tell. So far I really like all the ones I’ve met, but dogs are so funny and fluffy. So maybe? I don’t know.” The child rambles, mostly to himself. His eyes are growing heavy again. This has been a long day. Connor’s chin aches a little, and he gently touches it. He winces at the tap. 

“That makes sense. One day I’ll take you to the zoo and aquarium if you want.” Hank offers as he too lays down.

“What are those?”

“A zoo is a park where there are a bunch of animals that you might not find in a pet store. Like, lions and stuff. And an aquarium is basically a water zoo. They have fish and other water dudes.” 

A whole place dedicated to different types of fish? The idea is extremely appealing to Connor. He would have to take Fishy with them if they did go. “Yeah. I’d like to go.” 

The lieutenant yawns sleepily. Connor’s internal clock tells him it’s 10:54 pm. Not that late but certainly late enough to render Hank tired by now. Especially with all the things they’ve done today.

“Hank, how big is the universe?” The android asks, closing his eyes to imagine it. There must be so much out there.

“Really really big. So big, you can’t even really comprehend it. At least humans can’t. I think someone told me that it extends on forever, but I don’t know how true that is.”

The image Connor’s mind paints certainly doesn’t match up with Hank’s description, but it’s good enough. It shows Connor and Hank and Sumo on earth, and the rest of the galaxy with the solar system. And then there’s all of the other galaxies. It’s so big, the child wonders what it would be like to be in space. Would he get lost? 

“What would it be like to touch a star?” Connor’s voice is growing more and more tired.

“I think they’re made of flaming gas or something, so probably painful. But we can make our own stars for you someday, okay? Ones you can touch,” Hank rubs his eyes. “Did you know that the sun is a star?”

Connor’s eyes grow wide. “Really?? I thought it was a planet!!!” 

“Yup! It’s actually a really small star too. It looks so big but there are much larger ones out there.” Hank seems to enjoy teaching this to Connor, and the child sure is excited to learn.

“Woah,” Awe and amazement fills Connor’s voice. The universe is so so so big. He will never see it all. Never ever ever. But that’s not so bad, maybe it’s okay to stay here with Hank. “It’s okay that I’m staying here with you, right?” 

“Kid, I’m gonna be honest. I didn’t like you much for the first day or so but you’re a good kid. If anything, you’ve made me a lot happier in the last few days,” Connor smiles to himself. “You gave me a few scares, but that’s okay. You’ve got things to work through and that’s alright. That’s what I’m here for.” 

The words fill Connor with a warm fuzzy feeling. It’s comfortable. He wants to wrap his arms around himself and grin. Instead, he wraps his arms around Hank and grins. 

“What’s that for?” Hank questions, not upset in the slightest. He returns the hug as the kid responds.

“I never thought I would be able to hug someone. But now I can. And it feels very nice.” Connor informs him as he closes his eyes. 

“I’m glad I can give you that.” Hank closes his eyes too, a smile dancing across his face. 

Connor feels… Good. Tonight is good. Tomorrow might be bad but he can worry about that later. Right now he’s safe. Right now he has Hank and Sumo. Right now he has hugs and care. Right now he’s comfortable and cozy. Right now, he can almost imagine he’s a human. Just for right now. And that’s alright. 

This is definitely much better than faking being okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is nice and light before the storm gets worse. It’s getting there, I swear. When I said “slow burn” I meant like a reaaaally slow burn. Don’t hate me lmao
> 
> So I’m actually going to be camping from Monday-Thursday. I wanted to bring this up earlier to want you guys but I felt bad lol. I have the next few chapters planned out, so I will try to get them out but if I don’t, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up once I’m back. 
> 
> You guys are the best. Your love makes me feel so happy I literally can’t stop smiling as I’m typing this. Thank you for the continuous support. I feel like my story is pretty shit in comparison to most of these fan fictions but you guys manage to make me feel a bit better :’) thank you so much. 
> 
> I hope to post again tomorrow, but we will see. In the mean time, don’t forget about me! I promise I’ll be back :))) <3


	14. Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor wakes up and feels bad.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Depressive spiral, Self hatred/negative self talk, impulse thoughts, suicidal ideation, intrusive thoughts, flashback, panic attack, child abuse/neglect

The next morning, Connor awakes with a bad feeling in his abdomen. It’s not like he’s injured, it’s more of a sense of dread perhaps. Foreboding. He doesn’t want to move or tell Hank. He really doesn’t want to talk or do anything at all. Of course last night was too good to be true. It’s just a fleeting moment of happiness. It can't stay. 

Hank is still snoring to Connor’s left. Sumo can be heard munching on his dog kibble. The android flops his head back down. This is too much work. This feels bad. All bad. Thoughts won’t stop.

It’s almost as if everything bad is crashing against him in waves. He knows he needs to tell Hank, knows it’s important. But the worry and fear that it will bother the lieutenant remains. The concern that perhaps he will grow disgusted with him and decide that this is no longer a good idea. Connor doesn’t want that. He wants to stay silent. 

But he also wants to feel better. How he feels right now is absolutely horrid. It’s as if he’s sinking and he doesn’t know how to float back up. All the bad thoughts are swirling around his mind. Urging him to do bad bad bad things that he shouldn’t do. But every time the voices in his head encourage him, he becomes a little bit more desensitized to the idea of going through with the suggestions. Some include leaving this house and not returning, or finding something much sharper than his fingernails and digging into his artificial flesh, or tearing out his own hair. The worst of them all is the not so gentle urges for him to self destruct. Connor knows he should be disgusted with these thoughts he’s having, but they’re not concerning to him anymore. If anything, they’re growing more and more welcoming. Familiar. All these things are familiar to what he felt before.

Connor feels gross. 

He’s struggling to remember the good feelings from last night. If he could sample them for just a moment, maybe he’d be better. But no matter how much he wills himself to remember those words he thought and the warm fuzzy feelings he felt, they aren’t appearing.  

Why is this so hard? Connor knows now that it will take a while to get better, but a part of him is still in denial. He wants to be better now. This is too much. But at the same time does he really deserve to be ‘better’? And what is ‘better’ at this point?

Shifting his position to face Hank, Connor gently nudges the sleeping man next to him. He’s cautious not to do it harshly, so the lieutenant doesn’t wake up afraid. That’s the last thing Connor would want if it were him. 

The man groans and covers his eyes, rolling over to face away from Connor. Although his right mind knows that it’s not an action of anger, Connor isn’t in his right mind right now. He fears he did something wrong and hesitates to prod Hank again. Fortunately, the lieutenant ends up waking on his own. 

“Oh, hey Connor,” Hank mumbles as he blinks away sleep. “You need something? Or was I just sleeping too late?” 

“It’s 9:01 am. I don’t feel good.” As soon as the words slip from Connor’s mouth he regrets them. Why should he bother Hank right as he’s not even fully awake yet? How incredibly selfish of him. Connor wants to turn tail and run away. This is a bad idea. Horrible idea.

“Don’t feel good? Like sick? Or bad feelings?” Hank is turned towards him now and appears concerned. Way to go, he made him worried already. What a mistake he is. 

“I-I don't know…” Connor trails off, tugging at his sleeve. This is stupid. This is so stupid. He wants to run away and hide forever.

“Connor you don’t have to get nervous. I told you, I’m here to talk.” Hank says in an attempt to reassure him. It’s not working so well. 

“I’m s-so-sorry for waking you up.” Connor avoids the topic he brought up. His stutter is beginning to annoy him. It only seems to act up in stressful situations. How bothersome.

“Don’t be. It’s past nine I should be up anyways. You can always wake me up if something doesn’t feel right,” Hank eyes Connor, and the child glances away, feeling exposed and disgusting. “Why don’t you feel good kiddo?”

Because the whispers in his mind are urging him to do terrible things to himself. 

“Because I-I don’t want t-to move…” The child continues to look away, focusing on Sumo. “I don’t want to get up and do anything, or talk. Everything feels wrong.” Every single alert in his system is shouting at him to stop, halt what he’s saying while he still can. Backpedal and say it’s all a misunderstanding. But Connor doesn’t want to lie.

Hank looks thoughtful. “Well, I know what we will do today. It’s too rainy still to go outside and do much, so we will stay in this fort and entertain ourselves.”

“How.” Connor asks dully, unconvinced. There’s not a hint of intonation in his voice.

“Well the electricity is back on so the tv is an option again, or we can color or read or write or play some games, whatever sounds good to you.” Nothing sounds good right now. Nothing nothing nothing. 

Weird thoughts are becoming a constant too. Simple impulses that are nowhere near sane. Things he would never do.

“I want to cut off my legs.” Connor announces as the thought drifts into his mind. This is one of those thoughts. It’s not fun to say aloud, but when it came to mind he felt as if he  _ should  _ say it. Hank’s face twists into one of horror and concern. 

“Do you mean that?” Hank asks gently, trying not to set anything off further although he’s obviously worried. 

“No. It just came to my head,” Connor shrugs and lays back down, burying his face in the pillow. He shouldn’t have said that. Oh no he shouldn’t have said that. That was so stupid. He should just go die this is so dumb. No. No he shouldn’t. That’s a bad idea. “It’s like my head is fighting with itself.” He admits.

“I get that. Your rational thoughts are fighting against all the irrational impulses you’re getting, right?” Connor nods. “Yeah, that’s difficult. Hard to know what’s real, huh?”

Connor says nothing. 

“Look, we will have a relaxing day and stay inside here. It’s very dark outside anyways, so let’s just pretend it’s nighttime again. You can even go back to sleep.”

Pretend it’s night. Nighttime is both scary and comforting. The nighttime feels freeing since he can act however he wants but he also can think whatever he wants, which leads to bad things. He’s not distracted enough to keep those thoughts away. Maybe since it’s not actually night and they’re going to do things then that won’t happen. Maybe.

“...Okay. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden.” 

“Don’t you ever go thinkin’ you’re a burden. You’re not. Obviously you're not because I  _ want  _ to help you. It’s my choice.” Hank is desperately trying to drill this into Connor’s brain, but the child already has so many beliefs about himself that aren’t true that it’s hard to believe something good about himself. 

Obviously that’s not changing just yet. 

“Alright. I’m going to go get some water I’ll be right back, then we can decide what to do.” Connor just nods halfheartedly in response. Speaking feels heavy right now. Everything feels heavy. 

Connor would be lying if he said he isn’t somewhat disturbed by thoughts like wanting to cut off his own leg. That’s obviously a bad idea, yet for a good few seconds it almost seems plausible, until he rips himself out of those morbid fantasies. They make him feel guilty and ashamed, like he shouldn’t think such bad thoughts. Yet he can’t help that they spring into his mind with no warning. Perhaps he subconsciously willed himself to think of them? Who knows.

He lifts the pillow and places his head beneath it before screaming into the floor.

“Connor?? What the fuck are you okay??!” Hank comes crawling in, glass of water apparently forgotten

“Pent up emotion,” Connor mumbles with his head still under the pillow. “’m sorry.”

“Jesus, give me a little warning next time. Almost gave me a heart attack,” Hank sighs as he collapses back into the fort. “I don’t mind you letting out your emotions but shit you scared me.”

They remain quiet for a moment as Hank catches his breath that panic took away all too quickly. Connor closes his eyes and tries to recreate the happy moments from yesterday. That warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. The taste of a snickerdoodle. 

It’s not working. 

“Do you wanna talk about anything?” The lieutenant asks after a moment.

Does he? Not really. Talking is hard. Hard and bad and makes him feel more gross as Hank begins to learn how much of a failure he truly is. All of the things he couldn't handle. All of the things that make him wish he is able to throw up. He wants to be alone but he also wants to be as close to Hank as possible. Nothing is making a whole lot of sense at the moment.

“No.” 

“Is there anything you  _ do  _ want to do?”

What sounds nice right now. Death, of course. But that’s just the bad part of his brain thinking and of course he doesn’t want to die. 

_ Does he? _

Anyways. Maybe sleeping again? Forgetting all about this? No. He just woke up. Tv? Sounds exhausting to keep his eyes fixated on something so mindlessly boring right now. 

“A bath.”  Connor surprises himself with the response. Hank looks a little bit shaken as well. 

“A bath? You sure you’ll be okay? The bathroom door is still broken, so it’d have to stay partially open…” Connor can hear the worry dripping from Hank’s voice. Of course he’s going to be concerned. Connor just was in there a few days ago and hurt himself. Now he’s in a terrible mood and wants to take a bath again? He’s basically asking for trouble. There’s no escaping it.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” The child can’t bring himself to address the concerns. Guilt weighs heavily on him as he hangs his head. 

Hank hesitates. “I’m not really comfortable with that but if it’s what you want. Please, be safe Connor.”

Connor begins to get up. His body feels weighed down. It’s not unfamiliar, but it certainly feels worse than before. And unlike during the experiments, there’s no real weights on him this time. It’s just him. 

“Wait. You have to pinky promise me something or I’m not letting you,” Hank exits the fort along with the child. “Promise you aren't going to hurt yourself. If you feel like you’re in danger of doing so, please call for me. I want you safe, kid.”

That’s not unreasonable, Connor supposes. He reaches up and hooks his pinky with Hank’s. This is their third pinky promise. “I promise.” The android feels distant from his body as the words flutter from his mouth. Did he really say that?

“Okay… I’ll be right out here. Towels are in the cupboard where I got the bandaids.” 

The android says nothing in response. He feels as if his entire energy has been sucked from him. Before, he wasn’t even aware androids could be this sort of way. How strange. Perhaps it’s just another one of his errors. That’s probably it, now that he thinks about it. 

Connor feels dirty. These thoughts are tainting him. The bath will wash him clean. Get rid of them, make them go away. He doesn’t want them!! 

But he can’t put in the effort to push them away. 

The door really is pretty busted up; the doorknob is still on the door but the lock itself is broken completely. The door can shut until just a little sliver of light sneaks into the room.

Starting the bath, Connor locates the towels and drops one by the tub. He undresses, and he is grateful the mirror is too high for him. He doesn’t want to look at his gross self. He stops the water, then hesitates before getting in. 

The lights should be off. He flicks the switch downwards and is thrust into darkness. It’s welcoming. He can’t see anything unless he really squints, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

The water splashes softly as Connor lowers himself in. It’s not as nice as when Hank made it for him, that first night he was here. Was that a week ago? He can’t keep track of the days very well right now. Everything is a blur and feels bad. 

Connor loathes himself. He can’t even deny it. Almost everything about him disgusts him. Not even just these thoughts. It’s how he looks, how he acts, what’s happened to him. It’s all shameful and gross. It stains him like a permanent marker. It’s not going away no matter how hard he scrubs. He pulls his knees up close, shutting his eyes. Not that it really matters in this dark.

It’s so  _ wrong  _ to think about how he’s just a bunch of programming. That’s all he is. He’s a flawed program with one too many errors.

Why is his breathing becoming labored? The water temperature is not too high. There are no tears in his eyes. He’s just sitting here, silent and feeling bad bad bad. There’s no other way to describe this emotion. It's not anger or sadness or fear or any of those other bad emotions. It’s something entirely different. 

As the thoughts come to him, he can’t even push them away properly. 

_ Connor doesn't know what they do with the information they gather, but they don’t seem to care if he hears what they say. It’s not as if he understands anyways. All the words they say are so long and complicated and have a lot of different noises in just a single word. It doesn’t make sense.  _

_ Perhaps Connor angered last night’s workers too much, since they are especially brutal on him today. The android desperately searches for a reason to blame himself. He must have done something, something wrong that made them upset. If he learns what that was then he can make sure he doesn’t do it again and avoid this fate.  _

_ But for now, he’s stuck suspended from the ceiling from ropes. Connor would have preferred chains personally, since the ropes rubbed his wrists raw. Not that he comments on this aloud.  _

_ He does whimper though, after the first five minutes he is hanging there. _

_ “Are you in pain?” A female worker in a sterile lab suit approaches him. Her eyes are cold and give him no comfort. He struggles in response. “You can’t get free from that, not while we’re here. It will only cause your wrists to become extremely damaged.”  _

_ She talks in such an unemotional tone, it’s hard to believe that they say androids are the emotionless ones. “You know, maybe if you weren’t such a fucking brat I wouldn’t have to do this to you,” She have a finger at his face, and he turns to the right to try and avoid it. She only laughs and grabs his head with full force. “I would stop that if I were you. It’s only going to make things worse.” _

_ With his arms extended above him, Connor isn’t sure what could get worse about this. It’s already extraordinarily painful, and he feels as if his shoulders are out of place and might just fall off.  _

He’s panting out breaths now. Still no tears. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine just don’t cry. Think of Sumo. Think of Hank. 

_ The next time the woman approaches, Connor’s internal clock tells him it’s been twenty-six minutes.  _

_ “I see you’ve given up struggling. Good. It’s not as if you’re going to escape anyways,” She laughs and circles around to the back of him. Connor wants to turn to look at her, but his head hangs limply from pain. “It’s so strange, you know? A machine experiencing pain. Of course we’ve had the few think that they’re self aware and have emotions, but they aren’t like  _ **_you._ ** _ You’re _ **_different._ ** _ Interesting.”  _

_ Connor remains silent. “So, YK800, what’s this pain you’re feeling like?”  _

_ A gasp escapes Connor’s mouth as he tries to get the words out. “Wrists… they burn… sting…. shoulders ache… can’t move.”  _

_ “That’s enough. It’s almost as if you’re human,” She sneers. “Except you’re just simulating it. You're not experiencing any of those things. They’re just malfunctions. Malfunctions, you piece of shit robot.” She lands a kick to his back and Conor yelps, before biting down on his tongue to quell the noise. _

_ She walks out of the room, leaving Connor in the darkness.  _

Darkness. Why did he think this is a good idea? Dark is bad. Dark brings memories. Bad memories. Connor splashes his face beneath the water and chokes on the water, remembering he needs to cool himself down which means breathing.

_ Fifty-two minutes. Connor is about to risk it all by entering standby mode. The pain is too severe. But then the woman returns. _

_ “Alright, what do you say we get you down from there?” Connor doesn’t say anything, knowing all too well that’s he’s supposed to be quiet. Inside, he’s jumping for joy. What a relief. “Here, this should do the trick.”  _

_ She takes a pocket knife and swiftly cuts through the ropes. Connor doesn’t have more than a fraction of a second to realize what’s happening before he has face planted onto the floor. The pain in his shoulders is no longer a dull ache but a screaming pain that demands attention. His wrist protest as he tries to push himself up. His shoulders are allowing no such thing.  _

_ “Don’t get too excited. You’re going back up in a moment.” She informs him as she picks up the ropes. She yanks Connor’s hands toward her and carelessly cuts the rope off his wrists. The blade scratches his left wrist, but the relief of not having rope on them anymore distracts him. “I’ll return momentarily.”  _

_ The android dreads her return. He doesn’t want to go back up there. He hurts too much right now. He can’t even crawl, not even to make a pitiful attempt at escape. It’s probably better this way. _

“H-Hank..” Connor croaks as his eyelashes flutter against his face. “Bad… bad..”

_ The door slides open and the woman returns with more rope. She forcefully grabs Connor’s hands and tie his wrists together. She then moves to his ankles and ties both of those separately. “You see, this time you will be suspended upside down. We want to see how blood flow is altered.” What does it matter why they’re doing it. It hurts, and that’s all he can think of.  _

_ A few other assistants enter the room to aid her in stringing him back up. Connor swallows the blood spilling from the bite in his tongue.  _

_ This feels bad.  _

_ “Alright. Don’t squirm, you’ll make it worse.” With that, they’re all gone.  _

_ The only light in the room is an old lamp on a table directly behind him. It hardly emits enough light for him to see his own feet. Oh no. He feels all light and airy all of a sudden. This can’t be good.  _

_ How long has it been? It feels like hours but Connor’s timer says it’s been seven minutes. This is torturous.  _

“Connor! Connor what’s going on???” The android can only hear Hank’s urgent voice for a fleeting second before he’s thrown headfirst back into this memory.

_ Suddenly, the door slides open and the woman is back. “I see the blood flow is starting to get to you. You see, with the way you’re currently positioned all the blood in your body will begin to pool at your head,” Connor can’t even protest. “A human in this position would die within eight to ten hours. I wonder how long you can last..?”  _

_ Connor’s mouth betrays him as he lets out a desperate gasp for air. Stress is causing his system to overheat.  _

_ “Don’t worry. We’re not going to shut you down. You’ll only be here for another eight minutes.” With that, she’s gone.  _

_ She doesn’t come back within eight minutes. It’s been forty-seven minutes since they hung him back up when she reenters the room. Without any warning, she cuts through the rope keeping him strung up. Once again he collapses to the floor. The sterile tile floor connects with the side of his head as he falls.  _

_ Pain. Sharp and throbbing.  _

Connor is scrambling backwards in the bathtub, breathing heavily. Panic is the only emotion he can feel right now.

He can vaguely recognize the form shouting for him to explain what’s going on. Who’s that again? Are they nice? Or one of them? 

There’s not enough time to figure it out. 

_ “We wanted to see your response to being deceived. Making you feel as if we forgot about you. How was that? Hmm? Tell me.” She grasps Connor’s chin in her cold hand and he doesn’t have the strength to pull away.  _

_ “Bad… bad…” He can’t seem to say anything else.  _

_ “Pathetic. Alright, take him back to his holding. He won’t be of anymore use today,” She directs to the men Connor hasn’t even noticed until now. “You might ‘feel’ emotions. You might ‘feel’ pain. But you will never be anything more than a machine. These are errors. Don’t forget it.”  _

“Connor! Please kid please what’s going on??” Hank is shaking his shoulders. Phantom pains ring throughout his body and he flinches backwards. 

He can’t speak. Words. Where are the words?? Connor doesn’t want to worry Hank. Did he call him here? 

Connor struggles free from Hank’s grip and hugs himself. Where are his clothes? Oh no. He’s in the bath. He freaked out. Hank’s in here. He needs to leave he needs to leave. But the android’s voice won’t come.

Pointing to his clothes and then the door frantically, Hank appears to understand. The lieutenant exits the bathroom only to wait directly outside of the door. Quickly, Connor puts on his pajamas from last night and doesn’t care to dry off. He lays back in the bathtub without thinking about it. As he does so, a splash is sounded. Hank bursts back into the room, eyes wandering anxiously.

The man has a paper and pen in hand, and shoves them towards Connor. Fear is written clearly across his face, lines of worry and panicked eyes.

The android takes the paper and pen. He doesn’t want to talk. Doesn’t want to tell him about what happened. 

_ Can’t talk.  _ He writes.

“I guessed as much. Do you know why?” Connor shakes his head no. He’s just as scared as Hank is. “Okay, what happened? Are you okay??”

_ Memory. No. _ Connor transcribes honestly. There’s no use in lying right now, it’s obvious he’s not okay. He’s laying in a bathtub fully clothed and unable to speak. Who does that??

“Shit. Shit.” Hank stand up and begins pacing, hand in his hair. Connor looks down, hating himself for doing such a stupid thing. That memory wasn’t even provoked! It shouldn’t have come! This isn’t fair and he hates it. Guilt is washing over him.

_ “ _ Okay so I’m going to grab you some clean and dry clothes okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” Hank instructs, nervously glancing at Connor. Pity. He doesn’t want pity. He doesn’t deserve pity.

He still nods. 

Hank is gone for less than a minute. He rushes back in so fast that Connor was sure he was going to fall on the slippery floor. Water seemed to escape the bathtub at some point. He hands the clothes to Connor and leaves the room again, waiting just outside the door like before. 

The clothes are soft. Fuzzy socks. Warm sweatshirt. Comfy pants. He towels off and slides them all on, before testing his legs. They work. The pain isn’t real. It’s from before. He’s not hurt right now. 

Pushing open the bathroom door, Connor receives a worried stare from Hank. “Let’s go back to the fort, okay?” The lieutenant suggests. It’s not really a choice though. Connor follows after him, hating how he looked back at him with anxiety in his eyes. 

Once inside the fort, Hank sits across from Connor. “Is it alright if I hug you?” He asks the child. 

Connor nods, and is immediately engulfed in a tight hug. It’s as if the comfort healed him, since he his voice seems to have returned. He can’t bring himself to cry. 

“It was bad. Bad. Don’t know why it came. Bad,” Connor mutters into Hank’s sleeve. “Hurt. It hurt a lot. She was bad.” 

“Who was bad Connor? Who hurt you?” Hank rocks him and strokes his hair in an attempt to soothe the panicking child. 

“Woman. Very tall. Cold hands. Couldn’t move. Upside down.” 

“It’s okay Connor. It’s okay I’m right here it’s okay,” The lieutenant pulls Connor closer. “Why couldn’t you move? And what do you mean by upside down?”

“Tied up. Experiment,” Connor speaks in a monotone voice. He can’t bring himself to care. How long has it been since he woke up? “What time is it?” 

“It’s 11:24.”

“How long was I freaking out?” The android asks, ashamed. 

“By the time I found you, a half an hour maybe. I couldn’t get you out of whatever you were experiencing,” Hank’s hand is rubbing circles on his back. The repetitive movement is nice. “I think that was a flashback kiddo. Has this happened before?” 

Connor thinks back to the other time in the bathtub and the time outside. He thinks back to when he was still on the run and couldn’t calm himself down after a loud noise freaked him out. The time “Yes.”

A silence settles between them. Today isn’t going well. Connor wants it to be last night again. He wants the warm fuzzy feeling back. He doesn’t want this panic. This guilt and shame and disgust he feels with himself. 

He absolutely despises himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor and bathtubs are not a good mix lmao. 
> 
> So I’m uploading this early because I don’t know when I’ll have WiFi again. I’m not sure if the next chapter will be up tomorrow. I hope so.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)) you guys are so nice and I love your questions


	15. Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank works to figure out how to deal with this and calm down Connor.
> 
> Trigger Watnings: Self hatred/negative self talk, sucidial ideation, mentions of child abuse/neglect

Hank doesn’t know what to do. He should know, dammit but he doesn’t. He’s worked with countless abuse cases and he’s very informed about trauma and ptsd. His job requires him to be.

But this isn’t someone he only knows based upon their file. This isn’t a person he speaks to to figure out information and solve a case. This is  _ Connor.  _ A child he has pledged to protect for whatever reason. He doesn’t know how to help. This kid seems so deeply hurt by whatever happened to him that talking seems impossible. He opened up a little to Hank yesterday, but at what cost? Even the information he got today was vague. 

Not to mention that Hank has been severely neglecting his own mental health. He knows this. But fuck it. He can set aside his own needs for this kid. But for how long? It’s been a week and Hank’s dependency of alcohol is definitely an issue. He’s been surviving by drinking a small amount but he needs it. This stress he’s experiencing with Connor is only making him need it more than ever. Having the kid around brings back such terrible memories. 

A car, dismantled beyond repair. A child- his child, screaming. Blood. Flashing red lights. 

God those memories need to  _ shut up.  _ Obviously it’s not the time. Hank isn’t important right now. What’s important is figuring out what to do with the kid in his arms. The kid that appears near catatonic in nature at the moment. The kid that’s clinging to his shirt. 

Connor needs him right now. That’s what’s important. 

How should he go about this? The kid spoke of some woman, tying him upside down? She hurt him obviously. The thought brings Hank to the brink of rage. He can’t go knocking on Cyberlife’s door and break everyone’s neck but he sure wishes he could. At least everyone who hurt Connor. What  _ can  _ he do?

Is there nothing he can do? Hank isn’t a medical professional. He has no clue how to actually work through these types of things. Shit, if anything he should be seeing a professional himself. All he knows is how to calm people down enough to get the needed information. But even that doesn’t appear to be working as desired with Connor. 

Shit. The longer he takes to think about this, the more time the kid has to think about whatever terrible things he’s got in his head. Connor seems to have some bad impulse thoughts right now. It's not as if Hank is unfamiliar with those himself. He too gets them, and he knows how hard it is to battle against them. If Connor is anything like Hank, he’s probably feeling intense guilt for melting down and having some pretty bad thoughts right about now.

That only means he needs to fill the silence. Distract him. 

“Hey- uh, Connor? Didja think of anything to do yet?” 

The android’s yellow LED spins and flickers red for a moment before returning to yellow. He shakes his head. 

Dammit. Any attempts of talking to Connor for the last hour have been complete failures. Whatever’s going on in that head of his, it can’t be good. That LED won’t change from its constant yellow. This is bad. 

“You wanna talk more about what happened?” Hank cringes at himself. He’s asked the kid this seven times within the past hour.

To his complete surprise, Connor doesn’t immediately shoot down the idea this time. Instead, he shifts and looks up into Hank’s eyes. “Why?”

Shit. That’s not the answer he’s shooting for. “Uh, because it’s good to get it out?” His answer is pathetic. 

“I didn’t like telling you that yesterday,” Connor informs him, eyes flickering back down. “It made me feel gross. Bad. Disgusting.” 

Oh god. Did he push Connor too hard for information? Does he not feel comfortable with Hank anymore? Fuck of course he ruined this. No, now's not the time to get upset with himself that can be later. 

“What do you mean by ‘disgusting’?” 

“I don’t want you knowing about all that stuff. About how I couldn’t deal with it even though the pain is all fake. I’m a machine, after all,” Connor shrugs away from Hank’s arm and lets go of his shirt. “What use am I? This is pointless and stupid. I can’t even take a bath right.”

Hank doesn’t know how to response, and he feels terrible for it. He wants to give the best advice to this kid, but fuck this is hard. “Kid your pain isn’t fake. You feel it which means it’s real, even to a certain extent. I’ve told you before, you’re not just a machine. You’re  _ Connor.  _ You like dogs and rain and funny words and soft things and fish and the stars and the ocean and you’re  _ unique. _ A machine wouldn’t be that way,” He’s practically pleading with Connor to listen. “You make me  _ happy  _ Connor. You’re important to me. That’s your use, along with many other things. You’re not a failure, whatever they say.” 

“I hate them. Is that bad?” Connor whispers. “They were just doing their jobs.” 

“No Connor, they weren’t. They watched and did nothing. You didn’t deserve to be put through the things you had to go through. Fuck them.” Hank holds Connor’s shoulder tightly, hoping the words are good enough.

“Fuck them.” Connor repeats, looking up at Hank. A lopsided grin forms on the man’s face. 

“Yeah, that’s right, fuck them. You might not believe me on a lot of things just yet, but if you believe one thing I say, please let it be that you didn’t deserve what happened. Nothing you ever do will make it so you deserve that. I promise,” Hank takes Connor’s hands into his own. “ _ I promise.”  _

Connor’s glances at his lap. “It’s not as if I don’t  _ want  _ to believe you…” 

“I know, I know. It’s really hard,” Hank gently shakes Connor’s hands so the child will meet his eyes. “But we’re going to work through this. Shit, being honest, I have no clue how. This is all brand new territory for me. But either way, we will get through this.” 

The child returns to Hank’s hug, closing his eyes and speaking almost dreamily. “Do you want to know about what happened?” 

“Only if you want to tell me.” 

“I don’t know if I  _ want  _ to, but I probably should, right?” The android shuffles in Hank’s arms. “They just wanted to see what would happen. I mean, what would happen if they left me up there for a while.”

Hank’s stomach flips. Nausea is building steadily once again. He can’t help but imagine a different child in that same situation, and it only makes him want to bring Connor closer. The disgust he feels with those horrible people is unreal.

“I don’t want to say anything else.” 

“That’s fine, that’s fine, jesus let’s just… fuck I don’t know.” Hank is stumbling over his words and he hates it. He should be better at this, he’s an adult for fucks sake. This isn’t something he’s ever dealt with, not like this. God. What is he supposed to do in this situation? Tell him it’s okay? Because it’s obviously not.

Connor’s only response is to bury his face into Hank’s shirt. The kid hasn’t cried at all today, is he just too drained? Shit he can’t even bring Connor to a professional, if anyone learns about how he’s supposed to be  _ dead  _ then that will surely happen. Fuck. Fuck. 

Hank’s stomach growls, but dammit he can’t move right now. He has to comfort this poor kid. This is what’s important. His own needs can be dammed. 

In the end, there doesn’t seem to be much he can do as of now. Hank feels helpless and there’s nothing he can do about it. All he can do is sit here and continue to rock the silent, glassy eyed child in his arms. Anytime the lieutenant closes his eyes, he gets flashes of his own memories, and his nausea grows. 

They won’t  _ shut up. _

He’s been here all day. It’s 7:56 pm and Connor still hasn’t said a word since they talked last. Hank doesn’t know what to say. Everything seems to be lost onto the child. He doesn’t even acknowledge the man’s presence any longer. It’s as if he is in a trance. 

It’s becoming difficult to keep his eyes open. With no food and only a few sips of water all day, Hank is definitely low on energy. He’s low on everything right now. Guilt is eating away at him; he can’t do anything to help Connor. Everything is useless, useless useless useless. 

“You need to eat Hank.” The voice makes him jolt. Connor is staring up at him, glassy eyes nowhere to be seen.

“I’m fine,” Hank insists. “I’ve lived 53 years on this earth and I’m still here, forgetting to eat for one day won’t kill me.” 

“But it’s unhealthy. You should just get up and eat something,” The child responds simply, wriggling out of Hank’s arms. “I’m not going to sleep until you eat.’

Goddamn stubborn kid. “If that’s what you want, fine. Let’s go grab something quick.”

Satisfied, Connor exits the fort and Hank follows close after. They should probably take this thing down tomorrow. Sleeping on the floor forever won’t do anything good for either of their backs.

The kitchen isn’t as sparse as usual because of his shopping trip a week ago, but most of the fresh produce has expired by now. He can clean it out tomorrow. Let’s just get something small. Like, a piece of bread. Or maybe a few chips? Does he have any left? God, who knows. 

“I’ll make you a meal.” Connor announces, standing with his hands clasped together and rocking back and forth on his feet.

Hank almost decides to say no, tell him that isn’t necessary and a few crackers would be good. But he doesn’t do that, simply because the eyes staring back at him have a spark of light. However small it is, the spark has returned.

“What meal are you gonna make?” The man asks instead, getting comfortable in his chair stationed at the table. 

“That’s a surprise. It won’t take long,” Connor promises. He already has a chair dragged over to the counter so he can reach it. Should probably get a stepping stool. “No peeking.” 

“Alrighty, no peeking from me. I’ll just look out the window.” 

Although Hank does technically look out the window with his eyes, his brain isn’t involved in the action. The smell of toast cooking, the sound of sizzling in a pan, it’s too distracting. He can’t focus on just observing his lawn for that long. 

What is he gonna do with Connor? Kid’s got serious issues, that’s no lie. And even if he doesn’t like the word, shit he’s traumatized. Hank’s no professional but anyone can tell that. From the things the android has told him so far, Cyberlife did a lot of fucked up things to him. Who the fuck hangs a child upside down just because they can? Puts them underwater until blood fills their lungs? Who gives a shit if the kid’s an android, still a fucking kid. A kid who deserves to see the world without being so terrified of a threat by some corrupt company. 

Hank’s need for alcohol is growing worse. He didn’t have any last night, so fuck of course he’s gonna need it tonight. Connor won’t like that.

The rain seems to have stopped outside, finally. Storms are great, fantastic even. But only to a certain extent before it gets depressing. As much as he loves thunderstorms, sunny days are needed as well. Hopefully the sun tomorrow will help Connor. 

God, this smell is making Hank’s hunger increase by the second. Whatever the kid is making, he wants to eat it now. 

Dreams do come true, apparently. The clatter of dishes on the wooden table alerts Hank that he’s probably allowed to look. Still, he asks for permission. “Can I look yet?”

“Yeah.” 

The amazing smell finally has a name and it’s grilled cheese. Grilled cheese and a glass of… chocolate milk? Jesus, he hasn’t had chocolate milk in years. Must’ve had to dig pretty hard to find that one.

“Didn’t know you knew how to make grilled cheese kiddo.” Hank eyes the dish carefully, just as he did previously with the snickerdoodles. There’s nothing wrong with them, he just likes to take his time and look at the work Connor did. 

“I just guessed how. I’ve heard of it but I didn’t know what it really entailed.” Connor shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but Hank catches the little smile tugging at the android’s mouth:

“Well, I’m excited. Can I eat it yet? Smells amazing.” 

The praise lights up Connor’s face. He nods eagerly, pulling the chair he used as a stool over to the table. The child climbs in and folds his hands on top of the table. Waiting.

It’s perfect. Shit, how is everything the kid makes perfect?? Maybe a few of the edges are burnt, and there’s a little extra cheese than necessary, but this is perfect. It’s exactly how Hank would want it. With a full mouth, he grins a toothy smile at Connor. 

“Ewwww! Close your mouth, that’s rude!” Connor giggles and covers his eyes. 

“Okay okay okay,” Hank swallows. “Better?” 

“Better.”

“By the way kid, that’s some damn good grilled cheese. You sure you haven’t made it before?” Hank reaches for another bite after finishing talking.

“I haven’t. I’m glad you like it.” 

“Shit, I don’t just like it I love it. I would eat this everyday if I could.”’

“That would be terribly unhealthy Hank.” 

“That’s why I’m not actually gonna do it. But that doesn’t mean I can’t want to.” 

Connor wiggles in his seat, eyes darting between Hank and the glass of chocolate milk. “What is it? You want me to try the drink too?” 

“Yes!” 

Taking grip of the glass, Hank moves the paper straw his way and sips. Some weird chunky objects are floating in the chocolate milk. 

….Sprinkles?

“Sprinkles, huh?” Hank takes another sip and smiles. It might be a weird texture, but sprinkles don’t add much taste. Whatever makes the kid happy. 

“That’s what they’re called? I just saw a jar of rainbow thingies next to the chocolate milk stuff so I thought they went together and then it looked pretty and I thought you would like it,” Connor rambles. “Do you like it?” 

“Hell yeah, no question about it. Haven’t had chocolate milk in forever, I forgot how amazing it is.” 

Connor continues to smile shyly at his lap. “Can we go do something after this?” He asks quietly. “I-I want to end the day nicely. I feel bad for asking so feel free to say no.”

Of course Hank doesn’t mind. He’s a little tired, yeah. But slew can take the back seat for now. Where should they go? What should they do? It’s around 8:30 pm now, what’s open at 8:30? The rain stopped, so outside stuff is an option too… Hmm. 

“Yeah. We can definitely go out and do something. I think I’ve got the perfect idea,” Hank responds, reaching over to ruffle Connor’s hair. “Why don’t you go put on some shoes while I finish this up? I’ll only be a minute. Get your Fishy too if you want.” 

He’s off within an instant. Hank can’t see what he’s doing because of the fort, but he’s probably good. 

With the grilled cheese done, Hank rinses off his plate and sets it in the dishwasher before drinking the rest of his chocolate milk. His stomach twists as he reaches for a bottle of whiskey and downs some. There’s that relief he’s been craving. Not near enough to get him drunk, just enough to hold him over until he’s back here later. Guilt is tying knots in his gut. He shouldn’t be hiding this from Connor. But if Connor saw, he would blame himself. It’s better this way.

He sets it back in the fridge. That’s enough for now. Just as Hank is shutting the fridge, Connor bounces into the room excitedly. He’s got his pants tucked into the green rain boots they bought days ago, and Fishy tucked under his left arm. His sweatshirt is hanging from his tiny frame. 

“Ready to go kiddo?” 

“Yes! Put on your shoes Hank!” Connor tries to push Hank towards the door. All he manages to do is make the lieutenant stumble forward slightly.

“Okay okay, can you call Sumo and get his leash on? He’s coming with.”

“Okay!” 

What a change in behavior. Connor seems to have such down down moments that he feels immense guilt afterwords. Maybe that’s why he feels like he has to act happier after he’s freaked out. Hank can understand, but that doesn’t mean it’s good. 

Who knows.

With shoes on and tied tightly, Connor hands Hank Sumo’s leash hurriedly. “C’mon! I wanna see where we’re going!” 

Into the car they go. Connor buckled in his little car seat, Sumo on the seat next to him, and Hank in the front, ready to drive.

“Everybody ready?” The android’s response is to shot yes and Sumo joins in and barks. “Alrighty, then we’re off. Let’s not stay out too late, okay? We all need sleep at some point.” 

“Not me!” Connor waves his arms. “I’m an android!” 

“You sure are, but you still should have a regular sleep schedule. Doofus,” Hank teases. “You should have a regular schedule period. Having a routine is good for you.”

“Okay maybe.” 

“Whaddya mean ‘maybe’? It’s good for you!”

“Maaaaybe.” Connor giggles.

“Oh my god.”

The rest of the car ride is pretty silent, spare for a few conversations here and there about nothing important. The buildings are just silhouettes against the orange and blue sky. Although the rain has stopped, the faint smell of it still lingers in the air. People don’t seem to be roaming like they usually do during the day, since the streets are pretty sparse. It’s quiet.

Peaceful. 

When they arrive. Connor looks up from letting Sumo. “Are we here?”

“We sure are. Look outside.” 

The gentle reflections of Detroit are shining off of the waters from the river. The sun can no longer be seen, just hints of orange melded with the night sky. It’s beautiful. 

“Pretty…” Connor mumbles, reaching for his door before remembering he is strapped in. “Some help, Hank?” 

“I’m on it,” Hank opens the side door and unbuckles Connor before letting Sumo bound out. “C’mon, get closer to the water. 

They stand at the pier, hand in hand with Sumo’s leash in Hank’s hand. Connor smiles up and looks at the man. “Hank? Why’re you so nice to me?”

“Haven’t you asked this already?”

“Hmm… I can't remember.” 

“Well, it’s because you need someone to care about you Connor. You deserve it and I want to give that to you since I can.” 

Tiny arms wrap around his leg. “Thank you.” The words are muffled against Hank’s pants. The lieutenant leans down and picks up Connor, placing him on his shoulders. The child wobbles unsteadily. 

“This okay?” Hank questions, hands steady on Connor. 

“Yeah. Yeah it’s good,” Connor replies. “It’s good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s so late!! Hopefully you guys like it and the end isn’t too rushed and there aren’t too many errors. Won’t have WiFi for long, but I’ll reply to comments soon! Love you all! 
> 
> You guys are the best!! I probably won’t update chapter 16 until Thursday, since I only have one more full day of camping until I leave :)


	16. Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor tries to talk more and learns it's really really hard.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of Suicidal thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HECK HECK ok ok ok alright, guys I need you to go back over to @dropinart on Instagram! She made another beautiful piece of fanart that brought actual tears to my eyes. Although it was originally sketched before I changed the chapters, I worked to add a scene similar back in, because I love her art so much. Please, go check her out, she's incredibly talented! Here's the link:  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/Blq5F3XHyzh/?hl=en&taken-by=dropinart

It’s quite late once the three of them finally arrive home. Sumo got loose from his leash and they had to chase him until the ginormous dog eventually tired (not an easy task). At that point there’s not a speck of light left in the sky aside from the moon and millions of stars. Despite Connor’s protests, Hank decides it’s about time for them to be heading on back to the house for bed. The android would have been glad to stay out all night if it was up to him. But it’s not.

Now at home, Connor crawls inside of the blanket fort. Hank told him that they’ll probably have to take it down tomorrow, but the child doesn’t understand why it can’t just stay up forever. It’s much more fun than just the couch, but of course he’s still grateful for a place to rest.

It’s odd to call this place ‘home’. For so long, Connor’s only home was Cyberlife, and that can hardly be considered a home. This is a real home; comfort, care, Sumo and Hank. But still, it’s definitely different than what he had before. Not that he’s complaining. 

Emotions still twist in his stomach. It’s also still weird to call them real emotions and not just malfunctions, but he’s trying. Hank told him they’re not errors, so he has to try and trust that. It’s definitely difficult. 

The emotions haven’t left all day, and it’s becoming annoying. Connor really hopes that tomorrow he will feel better, because today was really hard. Nothing has felt right, and it’s almost as if he’s stuck in a fog. His mind isn’t working clearly and he doesn’t want to continue to bother Hank. No, no! He’s not bothering him. He’s allowed to talk to him. 

Inner battles are odd.

Perhaps tomorrow he can learn how to ride his new bike. Or maybe he can talk with Sumo and Fishy and Hank. Or, he could cook something or read. There are so many options. See, nothing’s wrong! Everything is alright, tomorrow will be better. It will be better.

Just at this moment, Hank decides it’s a good time to crawl into the fort and say hello.

“Hey kiddo, what’re you up to in here?” The man asks, tone friendly but with traces of worry.

Connor flips over from his side to his back, turning his head to face Hank. He should be honest. He should lie. He should be honest. More inner battling. “I’m just hoping that tomorrow will be better.”

Settling in next to him, Hank leans back and lays his head on his entwined hands. “Me too. But as much as I wish I could, I can’t promise that it will be. But we can try, I guess. That’s the best we’ve got.”

“That’s frustrating,” Connor admits. He just wants things to be okay for real. But he supposes that’s not realistic. “Thank you though. I just don’t like feeling this way.”

“No one does Connor,” Hank sighs. “But this is all we can do.”

Well. That’s somewhat disheartening. And discouraging. But still, Connor tries to make conversation. “How do you deal with it?”

Another sigh. “Look, I’m gonna be honest, I’m a terrible role model for you. Or anyone, to be completely honest. I drink and go to work whenever I feel like it and stay out late at bars. That’s how I deal, but it doesn’t mean I  _ should  _ deal with it like that. In fact, I’m trying really hard to think of ways to change that,” Hank’s voice has lost most of its gruff edge as he says this, and Connor appreciates the honesty. He wishes he could just as easily give back the same treatment. “I want to help you, but I’ve also gotta fix my own issues, since I’m pretty fucked up right now.”

“You’re not!” Connor protests loudly, sitting up indignantly. 

Hank lets out a low chuckle and turns to face the now upright child. “I am, but we’re gonna fix it. You and I, we might not know each other well yet, but we’re gonna get through it and better ourselves. That’s what I’ve decided.”

The idea is daunting and terrifying to Connor. Making himself better? That’s what Cyberlife always told him they were doing when they did experiments and trials. They told him it was to test the limits and push him to be better. Hank surely doesn’t mean it that way, of course not. Connor wants to help Hank too, he’s just not sure if he will be of much use. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to help you...” Connor trails off, settling back down. 

“You don’t have to go outta your way. You being here is actually helping a lot, I’ve hardly touched alcohol since you’ve gotten here. I’d say that’s at least a partial win,” The lieutenant adjusts the pillow behind his head. “You’re helping just by being here.”

That feels like a lie. 

“But I freak out… I don’t understand how that’s helpful. Surely it’s more stressful?”

“That’s what you would think. But it’s really not. I used to know someone a bit like you, you remind me of him. It’s, hate to admit it, comforting. And it’s not just that, I, kid I’m not good with emotions or stuff like this, but I care about you. It’s kinda silly, but I don’t give a shit. It gives me a purpose.” Hank tells him with emphasis. 

And the truth is, Connor feels the same. He doesn’t even know if the emotions he is feeling are real or what he is but Hank doesn’t seem to care about all that. No matter what prejudices the man had about androids, he set them aside for Connor, and that feels good. It makes him feel important and needed and wanted. He likes these feelings much more than the bad ones. Hank drives those ones away and the android isn’t sure if he can imagine not having someone to do that. The lieutenant gives him purpose, he tells Connor that he isn’t just Cyberlife’s puppet, their toy that they got bored of. He’s not just a machine.

He’s Connor. And Hank thinks Connor is good.

That makes him feel happy. 

“I think you give me a purpose too,” Connor whispers, embarrassment flooding his voice. Perhaps he isn’t very good at this either. “I don’t have any reason to do anything if it's just me alone. But with you, I guess it makes me feel better. Things don’t feel as bad and I think maybe, I don’t know, I can do this? Is that dumb?”

“Is what I said dumb?” The child shakes his head. “That’s what I thought. Neither is what you said. I might suck at these kinda talks, but I’ll have them with you if you need to.”

“...Even if they make you uncomfortable?” Connor asks, pulling Fishy close and rubbing his thumb along his scales.

“Even if they make me uncomfortable. Which, they don’t usually. I just suck at them, that’s all,” Hank smiles at him, and reaches out a pinky. “Can you pinky promise something for me?”

“What is it?”

“Promise you will tell me if something bad is going on in that head of yours. I’ll try to do the same, alright? We can work on this together and get on the same page.” Hank’s pinky is still alone in the air.

Connor has to take a moment to think. That means telling Hank about his memories, about the things they did to him. It means he has to talk about all the horrible things he’s done and the bad things he thinks about. About the self destruction thoughts. The idea stirs apprehension in the child’s abdomen, and he swallows.

It would be good to get that stuff out, right? That’s what Hank said before, if he wants to forget and work through things, he needs to talk about them. But the thought of actually  _ doing  _ just that is quite terrifying. He doesn’t want people to know about all that, he doesn’t want Hank to think differently of him! He wishes he wasn’t an android. He wishes he wasn’t created at Cyberlife. Maybe if he was a bird, or a fish, or a dog things would be easier. Maybe if he was a human things would be easier.

But he’s not a human. 

“Kid? Is there something wrong with that promise?” Hank’s pinky falls from the air and his eyebrows furrow in concern.

There is! Connor doesn’t want to do it! Honesty, honesty, he needs to be honest! But that’s so hard…

“I-I-I don’t want you t-to-to think of me differently if I think something bad.” Connor shakily admits. He hates how he stutters. 

“If that’s the issue, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about,” Hank smiles gently at him. The smile is warm. “I think lots of bad things, all the time. Am I bad? Is that wrong? No. It’s life. That’s just how you, me, and everybody is.”

Fishy stares up at him, his blue googly eyes and little grin taunting him. He should be like that, except with his brown eyes and wide grin. But he can’t, he can’t and it’s upsetting. He can’t be soft like Fishy, no matter what he tries. He’s rough and gross and disgusting and-

“Hank my head is telling me I’m disgusting.” He blurts, filter nowhere in sight. Why did he say that out of the blue? That doesn’t have to do with the conversation at all! 

“Uh, shit, can you tell me why?” Hank sounds both confused and worried as he sits up sharply. 

“I can’t be like Fishy or Sumo or you, I’m bad I’m bad!”

“Woah, hey, you’re not bad. This is exactly why I wanted you to promise me that, so we can talk things like that out together,” The lieutenant tries to grab Connor’s wrists to get the child’s attention, but he flinches away and rips them free. “Okay okay, sorry I won’t touch you. What, uh, what do you mean by like Fishy or Sumo or me?”

“I’m not- I can’t- I don’t know! It’s annoying me that I can’t talk right!” He cries, pulling Fishy closer as he shrinks away from Hank. Fishy is still soft. “You- you and Fishy and Sumo, you’re all soft. I’m not. I’m not! It makes me upset.”

“Hey, look at me kiddo,” Hank calmly directs. Connor complies. “You’re doin’ real great at talking this out with me. I appreciate you telling me what you’re feeling and what is making you feel that way.”

“You’re, you’re not mad at me for getting upset suddenly? In the middle of our conversation?”

“No, of course not. That happens, okay? You’ve gotta realize that things like that are gonna happen,  _ and they’re okay.  _ They’re  _ normal.  _ You’re allowed to get upset.” Hank firmly tells him. 

It’s… Okay? To be upset? But why? Why would it be okay? They told him it wasn’t, they told him he’s an android; he’s not allowed to be upset or feel anything. Is it different here? Does Hank believe different things than them?

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“I swear. No lie. I get upset, you get upset, hell, Sumo even gets upset sometimes from fireworks or something. It’s absolutely normal and okay.” 

It’s okay. It’s  _ okay. _ Hank says it’s okay. 

Surely he’s not lying. 

“...Alright. I pinky promise to tell you if I think bad things.” Connor hopes he keeps his promise. He hasn’t broken one yet, he thinks. 

They link pinkies and shake. No going back now. 

“I appreciate that Connor. I really do,” Hank informs him, eyes crinkling up from his slight smile. “Didja want a hug before bed?”

Connor nods. Everything is weird inside of his head right now. Maybe it’s not terrible, but it’s certainly odd and abnormal. It’s not sad, it’s not upset, it’s not empty, it’s just… weird. 

Either way, Hank allows him to crawl into a tight hug. Connor shuffles in the lieutenant’s arms and buries his face in his shoulder. He knows he doesn’t have to, but he feels embarrassed. That was a hard conversation and he still didn’t really want to promise that. But he did. 

“Alrighty, let’s go off to sleep now, alright kiddo? I know I’m exhausted.” Hank yawns and stretches his arms and back as he pulls away from the hug.

“I- um, thank you Hank,” Connor says shyly as he shifts back into his own heap of blankets. Back to Fishy. “I know I’m not the… easiest thing to deal with.”

“Look, we aren’t going through this again tonight, I’m too tired. But you aren’t difficult, you aren’t a ‘thing’, and I don't have to ‘deal’ with you. I choose to talk to you. We can talk more tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” The android has a flash of guilt for pushing the matter any further. This can wait.

“Night Connor.”

“Goodnight Hank.”

For the first time in a few days, Connor awakens smoothly to the soft sunlight peeking through the kitchen windows. It’s warm and bright, inviting. Like it wants a hug. He remembers that the sun is a star too. Maybe the sun would like a hug from someone someday. Maybe that someone would be him.

Hank is still fast asleep by his side. Not wanting to wake up the lieutenant, Connor carefully slides out of the fort and stands up, brushing off his legs and pushing the hair out of his eyes. The pajamas he’s currently wearing are making him feel very overheated. Perhaps he should go change into some day clothing.

After collecting a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, Connor makes his way to the bathroom to change. He also was sure to grab a pair of fuzzy socks. There are only a few clean pairs left, he supposes they should do laundry soon. Not that he has any clue how to. Maybe Hank will teach him, then he can help out more. That would make him feel better about staying here. 

For now, he just gets dressed.

The clothes feel nicer than the other ones did on his body. They allow him to cool down. The other ones, a pair of long sleeved and long legged pajamas, did not.

He returns to the main area and looks around. Hank was right, the blanket fort is kinda falling apart at this point. Before, it looked glorious, however now? Not so much. It’s more of a pile of blankets and pillows and furniture. Perhaps it would be a good idea to clean it up later today. After Hank is awake and ready, of course.

What to do, what to do. Nothing looks downright appealing, so Connor decides to just pick up Fishy from inside the fort and go sit in the kitchen. 

The light shines on him and it’s a wonderful feeling. It’s warm and welcoming and comforting and amazing. Wouldn’t it be nice to hug something like this? The sun must want to hug someone, it must get so lonely up there in the sky. All of its other star friends look like they’re so so far away. 

Connor takes a moment to assess his current situation. Not even a week ago he had been on the streets. Lonely, cold, dealing with these emotions and memories all alone. Then suddenly Hank found him. His car hurt more than Connor cares to admit. Hank brought him back here and seemed to not care, but the next day things began to change. And the next. And the next. Things are so… nice here. It’s almost like he has a real family like he was supposed to if he wasn’t defective.

But no, of course that’s not what this is. Hank would agree with him- Connor and Hank? Family? An android and a human, a defective android who is supposed to be destroyed? Of course not. That’s a silly thought. He shouldn’t wish for such unachievable things.

Unachievable things like a family.

Still, even if Hank isn’t his family, Hank appears to care about him. For whatever odd reason, he does. It’s strange to Connor, especially since they’ve hardly known each other for very long. He hasn’t even told Hank a fraction of the things that have happened, and the lieutenant seems pretty closed off himself. Connor doesn’t know much about him. But what he does know is that the man makes him feel safe. 

Hank gives him hugs and talks to him and let him destroy his uniform and bought him amazing and soft clothes like the fuzzy socks and lets him cook and tells him how things taste and introduces him to new things and tells him stories and its so so  _ so nice.  _

What Connor does in return is get bad memories and cry and scream and shrug away from the man’s touch. He’s not helpful. He’s bad. No. Hank said he isn't it. But what if Hank is wrong? Hank doesn’t know everything, he could very well be mistaken. After all, wasn’t he the one who said mistakes happen and that they’re normal?

No let’s not think about that. If he thinks bad things, he has to tell Hank. And if he has to tell Hank, he has to wake Hank up. And if he has to wake Hank up, he will feel incredibly guilty. He doesn’t want to be guilty.

He won’t do that. 

Good things, good things, what are good things? Sumo is good, but the dog is currently sleeping somewhere inside the fort and he shouldn’t bother him. Cooking is good, but what if the noises awake Hank? Fishy is good, but…

But nothing. Fishy is just good. Connor is allowed to talk to Fishy.

“Hello and good morning Fishy,” Connor picks up the stuffed fish from his lap to stare into his eyes. “How are you today?”

“I am quite bored Connor. How are you?” The fish responds, bouncing back and forth.

“I’m better than yesterday. I think. I don’t have as many bad thoughts. They’re still here but I’m trying to ignore them. That’s why I’m talking to you.” He explains.

“That makes sense. What are those thoughts?” Fishy asks innocently. 

“I don’t know if I want to tell you Fishy…” But the look Fishy gives him makes him give in. “I dunno, just like that I’m stupid, and stuff. Some memories. Some self destruction thoughts. Not a huge deal, it’s just getting on my nerves.”

“Why are you thinking that?”

“I don’t know! The memories come and then the other bad thoughts come after that because of them, I guess? You aren’t going to tell anyone, right Fishy?” 

“Who would I tell?” Fishy laughs, before growing serious. “You promised to tell Hank when you started thinking that way.”

Guilt.

“I’m aware. But I’m always thinking these thoughts to some extent, so I thought I’d just tell him when they got really bad.” Connor tells him, glancing around to be sure that no one heard.

“You’re breaking your prooooomiseeeee.” Fishy dances around as he says this, swimming back and forth. It makes Connor feel ill. He knows he’s supposed to tell Hank, but they’re really not too bad yet! He can wait, he can wait. 

“Actually, Fishy, I’ll talk to you later.” He’s not mad at Fishy, no, he’s mad at himself. Fishy didn’t do anything wrong. Fishy didn’t break the promise already. But he still sets Fishy aside and stares out the window at the wooden fence. What a view.

The thoughts  _ are _ growing worse, that is true. Fishy probably knows that too. Connor feels ashamed, he should be telling Hank. But he also shouldn’t wake up Hank. Ugh. Why is this so difficult? 

A memory of having his toes removed so he would fall when trying to balance. A memory of electrical currents sent through his body at different voltages. A memory of papercuts and lemon juice. All painful, on such varying levels. It was torturous. He hates how he wants to go back there and hurt the Cyberlife workers right back. After all, they were doing their jobs. It’s just what they were ordered to do by whatever higher up in power. But he still wants to hurt them. 

He won’t though. 

Things are weird. Connor should be a machine, but apparently, he’s not. He shouldn’t feel emotions or pain, but he does. He shouldn’t be here with Hank, but well, here he is. As he said, things are weird. Not bad. Weird. Except for the whole pain thing, that isn’t very nice. 

The urges to wake up Hank are growing stronger. No. He refuses. Unless something bad is going to happen, then he won’t bother the lieutenant. Things are fine, they’re fine. 

Fishy looks so sad all alone. Connor feels more guilty. He pulls the stuffed fish back into an embrace against his chest. That’s better. “Sorry Fishy.”

“It’s okay Connor, I forgive you. But you really should go speak to Hank, you promised.” Fishy tries again.

“But what if he gets upset that I woke him up?” Connor frets, unfolding his knees and setting Fishy on top of them. 

“You know that won’t happen. Just wake him up and tell him.” Fishy tells him. What would he do without Fishy as his voice of reason? 

“Alright. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to just tell him quickly…” Connor gives in reluctantly. He pushes himself to his feet and he begins to trudge over to the blanket fort. He really dreads this. He doesn’t want to bother Hank. Hank’s going to be mad. He’s going to be mad and angry and hurt hi-

Hurt him? Hank hasn’t hurt him. Except for his car, but that was by accident. Hank is nice! It was Cyberlife who hurt him, Cyberlife. Hank isn’t Cyberlife. If anything, Connor has to keep those two separate. 

Inside the fort is dark, aside from the soft glowing christmas lights strung around the place. Maybe he can convince Hank to hang these around the living room all the time. They’re very pretty and cheerful. Like stars, if he lets his eyes go blurry enough. 

Connor takes a deep breath. He’s not overheating, but it’s become habit. Time to do this. “Hank?” He nudges the man’s shoulder slightly. “Hank I’m sorry but can you wake up?”

The lieutenant groans and rolls over, away from the yellow sunlight that awoke Connor earlier. “Shiiiiit, what time is it?”

“It is 6:56 am Hank.” Connor informs him as he fiddles with his thumbs. 

“Well then. What’s up?” The man pushes himself up into a sitting position and rubs the sleep from his eyes, blinking. “Are you alright?”

Tears? Tears are welling in his eyes? Well, that’s annoying. He must be too overwhelmed.

“I think my system is overwhelmed. I-I, um, bad?” He tries, before clearing his throat and starting again. “Bad thoughts? In my head? I didn’t want to bother you but Fishy told me to…”

“Shit, kid, you’re not bothering me,” Hank curses under his breath, before inhaling deeply and regaining his composure. “Didja want a hug?” Connor nods. Once he’s safely in the lieutenant's arms, he hides his face and allows those random tears to fall and stain his shirt.

“What’s going on? What’re those bad thoughts in your head?” Hank soothes, hand brushing through Connor’s hair. It’s comforting. He almost feels okay with talking about this. Almost. 

“I don’t really know… I woke up feeling better? I think? But then I kept moving and things grew more and foggier and then it kept happening and I couldn’t stop and then I came here?” The words made sense in Connor’s head, so why aren’t they making sense out loud?

“Can you tell me what you are thinking about?” Hank coaxes. Sure, Connor can. But he doesn’t really want to.

“It’s dumb, it’s really dumb,” He mutters, reaching his hands to his face and pressing them hard into his eyes in frustration. Hank removes them gently, putting them back onto Fishy. “It’s so dumb! Memories make me think bad things about myself which leads to the self destruction thoughts which-”

“Woah woah woah. Self  _ what  _ thoughts??”

Oh no. He messed up. Hank sounds angry. Hank is angry. Hurt. Pain. No! No! Not again not again! “You’re mad you’re mad I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please I’m sorry!” 

“Kid I’m not mad but you need to explain what you meant by that.” The urgency hasn’t left the man’s voice. The anxiety hasn’t left Connor’s chest. He tries to wriggle free. He can’t breathe. He doesn’t need to breathe! But everything is suffocating!

“Please please I can’t breathe please,” Connor whimpers as he continues to struggle. Immediately at his words, Hank allows the child to squirm loose. He heaves heavy breaths, in and out. It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine. “It’s fine! It’s fine Hank I’m fine it’s fine!” He’s lying. He's lying and it’s obvious and wow he’s so terrible he’s lying to Hank’s  _ face _ like who  _ does  _ that??\

“Breathe slowly, I’m not mad. I’m worried. Please breathe in and out, deep breaths. In, and out. It’s okay Connor, it’s okay.” Hank calms. If he was sleepy before, any remainder of that is gone. 

“It’s fine!” Connor cries indignantly. Lies are hot on his tongue. It feels wrong. “It’s nothing it’s fine!”

“Connor, seriously. Breathe.”

So he does. He doesn’t want to make Hank more upset. He inhales sharply, holding before exhaling. The next round was a bit smoother. He continues the cycle until his systems seem to have cooled down enough for him to speak in coherent sentences and not stutter horribly. 

“Now, calmly, please tell me what you meant by that.” Hank urges.

What did he mean by that? How is it not obvious? Does Hank not know? “My systems get overwhelmed and then self-destruction thoughts come I guess? I think it’s normal?” Connor is unsure of himself. This feels bad. Hank still seems upset. Hank’s brows are still tightly knit together. The room feels cold. Where did the air go?? It’s gone it’s gone it’s gone-

“Kid that’s  _ not fucking normal,”  _ Hank says forcefully, completely alert now. “You should never have to think about that.”

“But it’s normal! It only happens when I’m overwhelmed!” Connor protests pitifully. He already knows he lost this fight.

“I said it's  _ not normal.  _ Do you hear me??  _ Not. Normal.  _ I’ll say it a thousand times, it’s not _ fucking normal.  _ What do you think about doing when you think about that? Is that what happened in the bathtub??” Hank’s tone scares Connor. He feels like he’s in trouble, yet Hank keeps saying he’s not! It’s so confusing.

“I don’t know! I wasn’t thinking then, I told you that! I didn’t  _ lie _ !!” Connor shouts without meaning to. “I-I just sometimes think I should stop my existence. It’s normal. It’s normal.” His voice grows weak as he tries to convince himself more than Hank at this point.

“Jesus kid, you need to tell me those things. You’ve gotta tell me,” Hank rubs his forehead. “And stop saying its fucking normal. I said it’s not. Get over here, you obviously need another hug.” The android does. He shrivels into Hank’s lap and shamefully tugs at his hair to cover his eyes. 

“I did just tell you!”

“You have to tell me before. Before they get this bad. Please. Please just tell me.” A hint of desperation creeps into the man’s voice and Connor himself takes a moment to grow somewhat concerned. 

“Is it really that bad?” He whispers.

“Fuck, of course it is. You’re thinking of fucking killing yourself,” Connor flinches at the choice of words. Androids don’t die, they don’t get killed. They get destroyed, they destruct. That’s all. That’s  _ all.  _  “That’s not normal. Please don’t say it is. It’s not, and it never will be. It’s not okay either.”

Guilt and shame are heavy on Connor’s head and he looks down. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

“God, I know you didn’t. But now you do, okay? So please, god, tell me next time. Tell me.” Hank damn near begs.

“I will, I will I promise.” 

And for a moment, things are alright, since they have each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this might get long! If you want some explanations, read on! I'm also going to talk about the update schedule, etc. If you don't care, feel free to ignore my rambling! 
> 
> So first, let me explain what happened. I had some personal issues causing me stress. Not to mention I just got a new puppy so that's more (cute) stress. When I received a comment that made me feel a certain way, I freaked out. These things that were stressing me before played a role in amplifying my response to the comment. In a very rash moment, I deleted all copies of chapters 16-19. The comment had to do with how 'dark' the story was getting.
> 
> However, that is how my story is. I apologize if that's not to your liking, but I've put tags and proper trigger warnings. Although I'm a softy and weak-hearted, I'm still going to continue to write this story mostly in the way I previously planned to. I am cutting down a few things, but that's it. I still hold myself to my promise that everything *will* end well. I swear. It'll take a bit, but it will. And everyone will live.
> 
> Also, not to mention that my stress vomiting wasn't just stress vomiting actually! I learned I had Salmonella, which suuuuucks. I'm pretty sure it's gone now, but I'm recovering haha. That probably added to my weak mental state, so my apologies.
> 
> Now, if you have any more questions, I would be happy to answer! Drop a comment or message me on Instagram @beanboredom 
> 
> Okay, so now I'm going to talk about my updating schedule. Before, I had been updating daily between 7:30 and 10:30 pm EST. I really enjoy updating daily actually, and so long as I'm not stressed, I will continue to do so. However, I am going to extend my update times from 7:30 pm to 12:00 am EST. Just to give me some extra time. Sorry if that's of any inconvenience!! I also will try to maintain my rule of keeping it between 3,000 to 5,000 words per chapter, so it is not too short and it does not get too long.
> 
> I appreciate all the support I received from you guys!! It definitely made me feel better. Honestly, I was quite nervous to come back, so I put off writing this for a bit, which is why it's late! (Plus I just got my puppy so I have to take care of him oops). But seriously, the comments you guys left me made my heart swell. 
> 
> Not to mention this story is now over 10000 reads!!! That's a looooot. I seriously can't believe it. I am so eternally grateful :))
> 
> Okay, my rambling is mostly done. I think I might delete the notice from laster "chapter" just because, well, it's not a chapter! But if you don't want me to? For whatever reason? Let me know. 
> 
> One more thing- please please please go check out @dropinart on Instagram! The link is above in the first note if you missed it. She drew two amazing pieces of fanart, and I highly recommend you go and check them out :) 
> 
> Sorry this is so long! I had a lot to say. As I said, feel free to ignore me :) I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter today, and tomorrow's note will be muuuuch shorter. Now I'm off to bed! Talk to you guys tomorrow, I'm exhausted <333 You all rock


	17. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor clean up the fort and make pancakes.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Brief mention of past suicidal thoughts

Although Hank got a good seven, eight, or whatever hours of sleep, he’s exhausted. Waking up before the sun has fully risen is still not normal for him. Guess that’s something to fix eventually, along with everything else that inevitably needs to be resolved. The list is only growing.

Waking up to Connor on the verge of panic was certainly not how he expected to begin his day. Nor is it really how he wanted it to start, but what can he really do? The good thing is the kid is beginning to talk to him. Even though yesterday was pretty bad and last night the whole promise thing didn’t go over too well, he still confided in Hank. That’s something, albeit small.

The thing that really concerns Hank is what Connor said about his so-called “self-destructive” thoughts. How the kid insisted they’re normal and they’re fine, it broke his heart. Of course they’re not normal, and that’s something they need to fix. When Hank has those god forbidden thoughts, it’s not normal or fine, and it’s not normal or fine when Connor has them either. It doesn’t matter the color of their blood, suicidal thoughts are suicidal thoughts. They’re not okay. 

It almost makes him feel guilty. Hank has had his fair share of those thoughts when he was a teenager and after the crash. They haven’t entirely left, but they’re certainly not as bad as they once were. There definitely is room for improvement. Maybe if he tells Connor about that, it will help? 

But Hank is a hypocrite. He doesn’t want Connor, a child, to know that he, an adult, thinks these things. Even if they’re only the occasional fleeting thought right now, he still doesn’t want the kid to know. It’s almost like he feels as if he should put on a better image for the android, be a better role model. Even if that means faking things. But of course, that is not rational nor is it smart. 

Things are becoming more complicated than Hank had originally anticipated for them to be. First, he just decides the kid can stay here for a night, then suddenly he’s living with him. Next, he begins to have panic attacks, then flashbacks and shit. As much as he hates to admit it, Hank might have bitten off a bit more than he can chew here. That doesn’t mean he’s willing to give up, it just means that he will have to work harder than he thought. Which is alright, if it results in him getting better along with Connor. 

Connor. The child that is huddled off in the opposite corner of the fort, mumbling to his stuffed fish. A concerning right, considering what just happened. Except, children  _ do  _ talk to their stuffed animals, that’s normal. 

Not much else is normal about this situation though. 

This has all happened so quickly. And although it’s not as if Hank wants to take any of it back, he still is adjusting. A sudden child in his home wasn’t in the plan. What will he do long term? For now, the kid has enough clothes for spring but summer will come, and fall and winter eventually. Plus the house is definitely not suited for a kid; there’s only one proper bedroom. Connor shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch for however long he’s staying here. It’s likely not very comfortable, not to mention that Hank doesn’t like the arrangement either. He wants the kid to have his own room, at the very least. 

Yet, like he’s said before, he can’t just run out and build a new room or buy a new place. Sure, his savings might cover it, but those savings are needed for other things. Plus it’s not practical. The only solution he can think of is transforming the garage into a room of sorts, and then he can move in there and give Connor his bedroom. But even then, he has to go through the works of insulating the place and adding proper walls and flooring. It’s basically remodeling the entire garage. 

God. This is all so complicated. Hank guesses he can wait on doing any of that for now. Maybe he should talk to Connor about the options later. 

Also, what will happen to the android when Hank has to go back to work? His time off is dwindling down, and things don’t seem to have gotten any better. In fact, they appear to be becoming progressively worse. He can’t ask for more time off, so he’s gotta get things in working order before he heads back. At least to the point where he is sure Connor can be safe alone. 

Well. Thinking too hard about all of this won’t won’t get him anywhere, so Hank decides to would be best to talk to Connor instead. The kid is looking pretty zoned out anyways. 

“Connor? Hey, are you doing alright over there?” He asks, taking a moment to sit upright. 

The android glances away from Fishy and up at Hank. No tears, that’s a good sign. 

“I’m okay Hank.” The child tells him as he remains eye to eye. 

“Was there, uh, anything you wanted to do today?” Hank isn’t sure of himself and it’s obvious by his voice. He should be better at this. 

“I don’t know. I feel better than yesterday but still… I don’t know how to put it. Drained?” Connor shrugs. “Do you need to get anything done?”

Uh. Yeah. Lots of things. “Nothin’ really. Whaddya say we pick up this fort and then we can go from there?” 

Connor pushes himself to his feet and waits for Hank to exit the fort so he can too. “Can you show me how to do the laundry today?” 

Hank can’t help but let out a laugh at that. “What, you think I don’t do my laundry good enough?” He teases. 

“No, it’s not that. I thought perhaps if I could learn basic things like that I could be more useful to you.” Connor responds matter of factly. 

Oh. That’s not what he was going for. “Kid, you’re useful already. But, I can still teach you if you want. So long as you want to learn, and aren’t just doing it for that other reason.”

The child groans in frustration. “Okay. Okay. Alright. Okay.”

It’s clear that changing Connor’s mindset on himself is going to be a challenge. But that’s a challenge Hank is willing to tackle. “Alrighty, let’s get to work!”

Even though Connor seems much more functional today, he certainly doesn’t appear to be in a healthy and stable state of mind right now. The way the child moves is slow and sluggish, lacking any previous quirks from when he got excited or happy. His smile is nowhere to be seen, a slight frown in its place. Not a significant one, but one that is still noticeable. He just seems so… apprehensive. Almost like he simply cannot bring himself to care. 

It sends pangs of sharp pain through Hank’s chest. 

But still, despite their moods, the sun is bright and cheerful. It drizzles in through the kitchen windows like warm honey, coating every surface it can reach with its comforting hand. As a kid, Hank always thought that the sun was too happy all the time, he thought the rainier days were better. He still has the latter opinion, but he’s come to appreciate sunny days. If every day were gloomy, then he would never get out of bad moods. They would just hang around until they sucked all the life from him. So, in conclusion, the sun is nice. 

A good change of pace.

Distractions. He has to focus on cleaning. Hank works to gather all the pillows into a pile before removing the sheets from above. Then he takes the blankets from inside and folds them up. Each thing back into their proper place; garage, couch, bedroom. Wherever it came from. Although it’s tedious, it’s not a difficult task and he’s done within twenty minutes. 

Connor isn’t much of a help if Hank is honest. Not that he minds. The child appears to be lost in his own thoughts right now, like he’s not really here. Hank would almost go so far to say the kid might be having a flashback, but those have usually involved more… screaming and crying. This is silent.

Now that things are back in working order, Hank feels refreshed. His house might never be the desired minimalist and perfectionist home, but it’s pretty satisfactory when it’s not absolutely trashed. 

“Uh, kid,” Hank clears his throat. “You wanna do the laundry now? Or later?”

“...Is it alright if we do it later?”

“I offered that, didn’t I? So of course.” 

“I just,” Connor can’t seem to stop fidgeting with his stuffed fish. “I don’t feel very, energetic? I don’t know if that’s the right word.”

“I think I understand,” And understand Hank does. It’s the feeling of having every last bit of energy sucked out of you by a high power vacuum. Like any possible energy is immediately taken away by some unknown force. It’s evil and it sucks. “And that’s alright But… I’m craving pancakes! I think I’m gonna make some, wanna watch?”

This seems to peak Connor’s interest. “Pancakes? What is a pancake?”

“Exactly what they sound like. They’re basically less sweet, flatter cakes that you make in a pan. Can add fruit or syrup or whipped cream or whatever you feel like. I just use the box mix to make them, hope you don’t mind too much.” Hank explains, his stomach growling at the thought of the fluffy and class breakfast. The same breakfast he used to have every day in his early childhood. Ah, sweet memories.

“Okay. Fishy and I will watch you make them so long as you tell me what they taste like.” Connor negotiates. 

“Deal.” 

Hank leads the way to the kitchen. If they thought the sunlight had been in here before, they were wrong. Now it truly is. It’s dazzling and radiant, much more awake than before. It reflects off stray glasses on the counter and Sumo’s metal food dish. That reminds him to quickly refill the bowl before washing his hands and beginning. 

The child pulls out a chair at the table and climbs up, sitting on his knees and looking expectantly at Hank. Whoops. Better actually start. The lieutenant dries his hands on the small towel and grabs a pan from one of the cupboards. The pancake mix is hiding next to some oatmeal packets and a box of grits. Now he collects a bowl and begins to pour everything in.

First comes the powder, then the water. Magic, as Connor might say. “See? Now it’s pancake batter.” Hank informs him as he whisks. The child nods, elbows perched on the table and chin in his hands as he observes.

A quick slice of butter sizzles in the pan as Hank turns the oven up to high. After it’s melted, he switches to medium and pours a generous amount of batter into the pan. It crackles as it connects with the butter, and the edges begin to bubble only a minute later. He carefully shimmies a spatula beneath the half-cooked pancake and flips. 

It lands partially on the side of the pan, a little on the stove, but mostly in the main part of the pan. Hank would call that a success, but Connor doesn’t seem to agree as he giggles.

“Hey! You laughin’ at my pancake techniques?” Hank turns around, feigning hurt. The android catches on and continues to laugh.

“No, but I thought you would be better than  _ that! _ ” Connor points at the sad, discarded batter that now resides on the stove. 

“The first one is always the hardest! Just wait until the next one!”

The next one ends up the same way. Worse even, it’s cut in half as half falls out of the pan and onto the stove while the other remains in the pan. Well. There are one and a half pancakes so far. He does his best to act like he’s fake upset by Connor’s giggles. But of course, he’s not really mad. How could he be? Connor is laughing and enjoying himself, and Hank would fail many more pancakes if it kept that smile there.

Thankfully though, he does a perfect job on the final pancake. Two and a half pancakes, what a meal. Hank piles them onto a plate and slathers on some butter before pouring only the slightest bit of syrup onto the stack. The sweetness of it usually hurts his teeth, but a little is alright.

“Okay, here’s the prized pancakes!” Hank announces as he sets the plate at his seat. Connor stands up on his seat to get a better view, tilting his head to capture every angle. Slight steam is rising from the stack, and the butter is already melted. It smells heavenly. 

“Prized  _ two and a half  _ pancakes, you mean!” Connor grins a cheeky grin as he sits back down in his chair. 

“Oh, you shut up. They’re beautiful, admit it.”

“Okay. They’re pretty alright looking, considering I’ve never seen pancakes before,” Hank can’t even be mad. The playfulness in the android’s voice is so good to hear after this morning and yesterday. It sounds pretty real, and he hopes the kid isn’t just faking it for his sake. “Taste them! I want to know how it tastes!”

“Okay, Mr. Impatience. Just let me carefully cut myself a bite,” Hank cuts into the half pancake teasingly slow. “And let me blow on it to just cool it off…”

“Hurry up!!!”

“You want me to burn my mouth?” Hank pretends to be shocked. “I can’t believe you. Fine, let me just get  _ burnt  _ and  _ mutilate my own mouth.  _ Jeez.” 

The giggles are insatiable now, and Connor has doubled over in his fit of laughter. He clutches at Fishy tightly, and his body shakes gently with each laugh that leaves his mouth. Hank thinks this a nice look on Connor. Happy, smiling, laughing. Sunlight pouring over his hair like syrup. The stuffed fish as a friend, not a foe. This is what he wants for Connor all the time.

Of course, that isn’t possible. No one can be happy always. But he can sure fucking try. Hank shovels a bite into his mouth, closing his eyes to picture himself somewhere. In a situation, a place that fits this taste. 

Warmth, a comforting hug on an early school morning. Leaves dropping from the sky in flurries each time the wind blows even the slightest amount. Tripping over his shoelaces that he hardly knew how to tie and receiving a dog-themed bandaid to cover the scrape on his elbow. Wearing a new knit hat for the first time as he walks into the crisp chill. There are so many ways for him to possibly describe pancakes. What would be best? What would Connor understand?

“Okay, you ready to know what it tastes like?” The laughter dies down but the smile on Connor’s face doesn’t leave.

“Yes!”

“It tastes like… Walking outside early in the morning with your blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Slight fog in the air, a little chill but nothing drastic. Autumn again. Swaying trees and the sun rising.” Hank concludes. Perhaps that came out a bit less sensible than he hoped, but it seems to have gotten the point across.

“I want to do that! The pancake smells so nice, I can only imagine that it’s taste would be just as nice!” Connor jumps a little in his seat at the thought. “Can we do that Hank? Can I taste a pancake along with the snickerdoodle?”

“Hell yeah. We can taste whatever you want.” Hank feels the corners of his eyes crinkle up as he smiles over at the kid. Connor is deep in a daydream- a happy one, by the looks of it. He’s smiling, but with that distant look in his eyes. The rest of the half pancake fills the lieutenant’s mouth and he savors the taste. 

This is much better than before. Connor seems to have cheered up somewhat, which is good. Hank’s only worry is that it won’t remain for long. He wants it to, of course he does. But he doesn’t know if it will. So far, the kid’s happy emotions seem to be fleeting and brief, but it should be the opposite. The sad moments should be uncommon and not the default. 

No, let’s not think of what things should be like. That’s not how they are, they’ll just have to work on fixing them later. For now, enjoy the happy moment. 

“So, what else should we do today?” Hank asks as he eats another bite.

“I still don’t really know.” Connor admits.

Swallowing, Hank takes a sip of water. “I was thinking earlier about the house arrangement right now. Perhaps eventually, you would like your own room? Sleeping on the couch can’t be great.”

Connor’s eyes widen. “But you only have one bedroom! I’m okay, I like the couch!” He protests. What a sweet kid. 

“I know, what I’m saying is I was thinkin’ ‘bout remodeling the garage into a new bedroom for me at some point. Maybe a summer project,” Hank chews another bite before speaking again. “That way we have time to plan it out. Would that be nice?”

Now that he’s said it, there’s no taking it back. They’re in for the long haul if Connor says yes. Hank wouldn’t mind that actually, that’s why he offered. But it still is a stark realization of what he’s doing. The kid will really live with him, like for real. Officially at that point.

“I, um, I’m not sure,” Connor seems flustered as he looks down at his lap. Hank waits for the android to continue. “It sounds nice, it even sounds great! But I don’t want to burden you any more than I am, you’ve given me so much and-”

“Connor stop saying you’ve burdened me. I wouldn’t be offering if I didn’t want to,” Hank chides him. “If it sounds good, then we can figure it out. So that’s that.”

“But-” Connor starts before seeming to change his mind. “...Okay. Thank you Hank.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem kid. You’re good Connor, and I want to make you happy, okay? Like I said last night, we’re gonna work through this and you can be a normal kid. A normal kid means you get a bedroom and not just a fuckin’ couch, ‘kay?”

The android giggles again. “Okay. I guess,” He looks away shyly. “I guess it might be nice to feel like a normal kid.”

That seals the deal. No matter what happens, Connor gets to be a normal kid with a normal and happy life. Fuck those people, fuck that whole company. But also, Hank silently thanks them for sending him this wonderful addition to his life. He would never admit it aloud, but Connor is making his life better too, in more ways than just the alcoholism. It feels as if a hole in him has been filled. 

The last bite of the pancake is sweeter than the rest, it has just a bit more syrup. It tastes different, it tastes like smiling. Like grinning until your face hurts, like happiness. It tastes like joy and excitement and the sun and stars and the ocean, expansive and unending like the universe. Like there’s nothing wrong in the world, like everything is radiant and perfect like the sun that continues to dance across their faces. Like they’re carefree and untroubled, like they have the freedom to do whatever they please. Like laughing at each other and watching movies late at night and sunsets. Like comfort, like care. Like nothing can go wrong.

This is how everything should taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Mostly fluffy chapter today, so that's good! I needed to write some fluff, and I happened to be craving pancakes so this is what happened haha. 
> 
> And guys you are tOO SWEET like my heart can't take all of your kindness. You guys are the highlights to my day, even you lurkers. I care about you guys too ;)
> 
> I hope this chapter is satisfactory! I wanted for it to be longer, but my Grandmother went to the hospital so I had to deal with that. She's okay though, no worries! And I'm good too. And my puppy says hello to you all :))


	18. Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor goes shopping and the goes to the playground.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Self hatred/Negative self talk (lightly), panic attack

The idea of tasting a pancake continues to lurk in the back of Connor’s mind as he waits for Hank to finish rinsing off his dish. Although he may never understand what having tastebuds is like, the way Hank describes the food seems close enough, and one day, he will experience these tastes for himself. The situations the lieutenant describe seem so specific, he can’t be wrong.

Today has been an odd mixture of emotions. He woke up alright and then became upset, and then happy and now he’s back to alright. Not terrible, not fantastic, just alright. And that’s not a bad thing either, he’s quite happy that he’s not feeling as bad as yesterday. Even feeling something is better than nothing.

His eyes drift towards the now clean living room.  Connor feels guilty, he didn’t help at all with the task of fixing the room back up. Instead, he was too absorbed in his thinking. That wasn’t right of him, he should have done a better job. 

Not to mention that he’s also guilty for telling Hank he would, in fact, like a room of his own. 

At Cyberlife, he did technically have his own room. Yet it wasn’t a… bedroom, per say. It was his ‘storage unit’, and that’s where he spent all of his time aside from trials and experiments. There was nothing but a simple overhead light, white walls and flooring with a vibrant blue trim, and a single two-way mirror. The door wouldn’t unlock for him, no matter what he tried. His hand couldn’t reach the screen thingy anyways. 

There were also cameras in there, monitoring Connor’s every move. He never felt truly safe or private. Everything he did was on display. Everything that they did to him. Whenever someone would come in to take their anger out, it was recording. And they did nothing. In fact, he thinks they encouraged it. Perhaps they thought it would discipline him or that he deserves it. Which, Connor won’t argue with. At least not in his mind.

But the room Hank is offering would be free of all of that. No cameras, no locked door, no mirror. No one to come in and hurt him. There would be toys and a bed and clothing. Oh, how nice that sounds. It sounds better than nice, much better. It sounds like a dream. 

Yet still, he has that looming thought that he doesn’t deserve it, that he shouldn’t be causing Hank so much stress. He shouldn’t ask for so much, he should leave the lieutenant alone. He should be grateful for the home he has now. 

Hank’s hand gently waves in front of Connor’s face and he blinks, LED spinning yellow. “What is it Hank?” 

“You were zoning out, couldn’t hear me?” Connor shakes his head. “Oh. Well, that’s why I had to get your attention in some other way.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, don’t be. I get lost in thought too, it’s not a big deal,” Hank leans on the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “What would you like to do now? Any ideas?” 

To be honest? No, Connor doesn’t have any ideas. It’s as if his mind has gone blank. He shrugs. 

“I might have an idea. Mind if we run to the store first? Then we can have some fun.” Hank negotiates as he helps the android out of his chair. 

“Okay! I don’t mind the store,” Connor responds, Fishy tucked safely under his left arm. “Is it a different one than the ones from before?” 

“Yup! There’s a lot of different stores, but you’ll figure out the ones you like the best eventually,” Hank reassures. “Okay, put on your shoes and coat while I get dressed alright? Then I’ll fix your hair and we can get outta here.”

“Alright, thank you Hank.” 

“Yeah, sure.” The man turns his back and heads down the hallway. Connor watches as the bedroom door swings shut and sighs.

“Okay Fishy, do you want to come with us?” Connor asks the fish in his palms. 

“Yeah of course I do!” Fishy’s voice is squeaky and excited. 

This leads Connor to bounce onto the couch, swinging his feet off the edge. He wonders what Hank might be planning. The river was fun last night, or maybe the pet store? Anyways, he leans over the armrest and struggles to grab his shoes without leaving the couch. After successfully snatching them, he slides them on and Velcros them up tightly.

Now he waits. 

Fishy stares up at him with those large blue eyes of his. Connor cocks his head to the right, and Fishy mimics him. The android closes his eyes. 

Huge, blue crashing waves fight their way towards the shore, closer and closer every time they grow bigger. Fishy swims, he swims with some jellyfish and a dolphin and some other fishies, and he looks happy. Bubbles soar towards the surface, and the dolphin leaps upwards to steal an oh so sweet breath of oxygen. It all seems so very real.

But there goes the illusion as soon as Connor opens his eyes. 

“Alright, lemme brush out that hair of yours,” Hank appears from behind the couch, hairbrush in hand. Connor allows the lieutenant to turn his face slightly so he can fix his hair. After the brush has been run through his hair a few times, Hank stands back, satisfied. “There we go. Ready to go?” 

“Yeah! Can Fishy come?” Connor asks as Hank drops the hairbrush on the coffee table in favor of slipping on his shoes instead.

“Of course, he’s always welcome,” Hank replies before turning around to look at Sumo. “Be a good dog Sumo, okay?”

The Saint Bernard’s only response is a quick bark before resting his head back down atop of his comically large paws. “Alright kiddo, let’s roll on out!”

In the car Connor closes his eyes and tries to imagine like he’s in the waves of the ocean. It doesn’t work very well, but then again he doesn’t know what the waves feel like for real so he can only imagine. He allows his hand to lay limply in the air with no real purpose except to imagine the salt water soaking it. 

Connor isn’t sure where his fascination with the ocean spawned from. You’d think he would be terrified of the ocean, what, with what they did to him and all. But no, it’s the exact opposite. Everything new he learns about the ocean only makes him love it more. Is it possible to love something you’ve never seen aside from pictures? He hopes so. 

“Alright, so I just wanted to go here and grab a few things. Ready?” Hank questions as they pull into a parking space. Connor nods and waits patiently for the lieutenant to open his door and unbuckle him. Once that is done, Hank gestures for Connor to take his hand. The child does, a little confused. 

Hank notices his confusion. “When walking across the street or in a parking lot, you should always hold hands with an adult. It’s safety stuff.” He explains. Connor’s grip of Fishy’s fin tightens. He doesn’t want Fishy getting hurt! 

“Okay! I’ll be safe!” Connor announces, carefully sidestepping a crack in the pavement. 

“You don’t need to be  _ that _ careful,” Hank laughs. “This area is a pretty safe and friendly one. No crack in the pavement is gonna attack you here.” 

Inside the store is busy. People are bustling around everywhere and nothing seems to stop. Hank swiftly takes a basket from the stack and clutches Connor’s hand as they make their way through the clumps of people. 

Unease trickles into Connor’s mind. He knows there are cameras in here, he can sense them. They’re watching him, what if they find him? There are so many people here, and his LED doesn’t really help. 

But then again, if he glances around, Connor can spot several android child models in the immediate area. Of course, human children far outnumber them, but there are a few. Good, that’s good. All the attention won’t be on him. 

He’s okay. 

The first stop is the grocery department, and the only thing they get is a single carton of raspberries. It’s small, but the color is really pretty. Hank explains that raspberries are one of his favorite fruits, but then again he said he likes all fruits. Except for oranges apparently. Connor tries to consider what a raspberry or an orange might taste like. Surely one would be a more pleasant experience than the other. 

Next up is the medical section. Connor glances warily at all the different types of medicines. There seems to be a bottle or a box for everything. But Hank doesn’t take any of these, he just grabs a package of dog-themed bandages and tosses them in the basket with little to no explanation. 

Lastly, they make their way towards the toys section. Children are everywhere, and Connor feels strangely at ease. They look like him, they’re as tall as him. They sound like him. He might not be a human child, but for some reason, he connects with these kids. 

Before he can think further about the matter, Hank is ushering him down one aisle in particular. The shelves are so tall, Connor can’t imagine how anyone can reach that high. They’re towering and he’s a coward. 

“Alright, so I know you wanna see the ocean but I can’t really do that right now it’s kinda far away from here,” Hank rushes out. “And although I’d love to take you to Lake Michigan at least, I think it would be better to do that in the summer. So I thought maybe we could just go to a park with a good sandbox and you can get the feel for the beach part at least.” 

His eyes widen, rounding out and presenting his golden brown eyes. They shimmer in the store lighting. “Really??? I get to feel sand??” 

“Hell yeah you do. And we’re here,” Hank gestures around the aisle with a sweeping hand. “Because any kid who’s gonna play in the sand needs some good sand toys. You know, to build stuff or dig or whatever you feel like.” 

Connor can’t contain his joy as he bounces up and down, hugging Fishy close. He gets to play in sand! Fishy and he can see real sand! Who cares if it’s not ocean sand,  _ it’s sand! _ Sand that’s he’s been wondering about for so long. Sand that he’s marveled at, for there are so many grains of it. Magnificent sand! 

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Connor exclaims, not caring if people look for a brief second. But that second passes quickly and then he shies away from everyone’s eyes by darting behind Hank. “I was too loud, now they’re looking at me.”

“Nah, you got excited just like every other kid in this aisle. No one cares, trust me,” Hank reassures. “Now why don’t we pick out some toys and head off to the park?”

“Yes please!” Connor nods enthusiastically as his eyes roam the shelves. There’s so many, what would be the best? A bucket with a shovel would be good, but each bucket and shovel look different. Is one better? Is there a superior shovel? And there’s a lot of things Connor doesn’t know how to use. “Hank? Which one should I choose? I don’t know what I should get.” 

“How about… this bucket and shovel, then this pack of whatever this stuff is, and then a bigger bucket?” Hank suggests. 

“But that’s a lot! I’m good with just one thing!” 

“Connor just get the damn toys you goof. I  _ want  _ you to get them, so just toss whatever you want in the basket, ‘Kay?”

“...fine.” Connor reluctantly places Hank’s suggested items in the basket, along with his own addition- a big shovel. It looks like it might be fun to dig with.

Checking out is tedious and annoying. The lines are crazy long, and of course, a mother of four small children in front of them has to pull out billions of coupons just for a few items. One of the kids seems to have taken a liking to Connor as he stares and smiles at the android. 

“Bwu!” The toddler shrieks with joy, pointing at the side of Connor’s head. He immediately reaches up to cover his LED, as if by instinct. The child’s happy face falls though, so he hesitantly pries his hand off and waits for the kids next reaction. 

“Lellow!” Is the next cry, the toddler clapping his itty bitty hands together. Connor tentatively smiles back at the child, a bit of nervousness staining his face. 

The mother appears to have checked out, because she turns around to collect her small army of children. When she spots Connor smiling at her son, she glares and picks the child up sharply, quickly turning away. 

“Come on Lucas, we’re going home. Come on everybody.” She leads the children away hastily, eyes darting back at Connor as she leaves the scene. 

The way she looked at him didn’t make Connor feel so great inside. Thankfully though, Hank didn’t notice. He would have made a huge deal out of it when it’s really nothing. It’s nothing at all. 

Thank goodness the car ride is short because Connor cannot contain his excitement for the life of him. Real sand. Not just a picture or something, he gets to touch it! Little teeny tiny rocks! Hank explains that the ‘sandbox’ is just one part of this park. He says it’s part of the section that is the ‘playground’. He’s not sure what that means, but it has the wordplay in it, so surely it will be great.

Hank does warn him that there will likely be many other children there because, well, it’s a playground. Apparently, they are built primarily for children. He liked being around the kids at the store, so these ones will be the same, probably. 

“Okay, so before I let you out and run free, I’m gonna make sure you know a few things. You listening?” Connor bobs his head up and down rapidly. “First, I’ll be sitting right on this bench that is by that tree. I’m gonna try to read one of my books unless you need me. Second, if there’s an emergency or even if you’re just not feelin’ right, come get me right away. We can always come back another time. And last, just have fun, okay? The kids should be nice and everything should be good-”

“Haaaank. It’s okay! I’m excited! Can you pleeaaaase get me out now?” Connor draws out the word as he begs. The man chuckles and shakes his head. 

“I’m like a mother hen, dammit. Alright, here you go.” The android doesn’t quite understand what Hank meant by his first line, but who cares? He can go see sand now!! Connor grabs Fishy and loads his arms with as much of the sand toys as he can carry. Hank takes the remainder of the load and helps him carry it over to the sandbox.

The sand is even more amazing than he thought it would be. He drops everything inside of it and gasps as he collapses into it, shoving his hands in and pulling them back up with fistfuls of sand. It tickles! He can feel it shifting beneath his weight as he moves. 

“You good? All your toys are here, and remember I’m right over there if-”

“I’m good I’m good!” Connor wants to say he heard Hank’s words, but if he’s honest he didn’t. How could he? Sand is right in front of him! Sand is  _ in his hands _ ! 

With that, Hank turns heel and settles on the bench a fair distance away. Connor can still easily spot him though, and he waves as the lieutenant glances at him before pulling out his book. He waves back. 

“Okay Fishy! What should we build?” Connor picks up Fishy. The stuffed fish has some sand on him already, but the child doesn’t mind. In fact, he hopes he can take some of the sand back to Hank’s house, just to keep for himself. Is that selfish? He hopes not.

“Why don’t we build a sand fort, like the blanket fort, but with sand?” Fishy recommends. Connor’s eyes light up like Fishy has just spoken the words of a true genius.

“Okay!! Okay okay, I think I should dig deeper, right? That’s what the people on tv did to get to the moldable sand..” Connor mumbles to himself as he sets Fishy down to instead pick up a small hand shovel and begin digging at the sand. Every time he digs some out, some of the loose sand falls back in. It’s never enough to erase his work though, so Connor doesn’t mind much at all.

He begins to shovel the wet sand into one of the buckets- a bigger one, for supports. Like the couch and reclining chair in the blanket fort. The first time he flips the bucket over, he grins and wiggles happily. Although it crumbled a bit at the top, it’s perfect! It’s perfect it’s perfect!

Connor works for a while at the fort. He carefully and cautiously constructs the walls, and then he realizes he can’t make pretend blankets over it because the sand will fall, so he decides to have an open ceiling fort. He forms little sand pillows and blankets to go inside though, and he draws a little box that acts as a rug for the fort. The finishing touch is Fishy inside of it.

“Fishy! What do you think?”

“I think it’s awesome! I love my new house, thank you very much!” Fishy hops up and down as he says this. 

“You’re welcome Fishy!” Connor proudly admires his handiwork. “I’m happy you like it!”

At this moment though, Connor cuts off his conversation with Fishy and turns to see where this sudden shadow is from. There are a few children towering over him. Two of them, a boy and a girl, look taller than him but there’s another girl who seems to be about his height. He smiles warily at them, waving like he did to Hank.

“H-hi! Um, I’m Connor? What’re your names?” Connor asks, voice trembling a little bit but otherwise he manages to put on a strong front. 

“I’m Elizabeth, this is Xavier and his little sister Katie. We saw your sandcastle and we want to build one with you if that okay.” The girl, Elizabeth, sounds kind enough. She offers him a smile, and he decides this is probably good.

“Okay!” He gets up, shaking the sand off as he picks up Fishy.

“Who’s that?” Katie asks, pointing at Fishy.

“This is Fishy!” Connor announces proudly, hugging the stuffed fish close.

“Can I hold him?” The little girl asks, reaching her arms out. Connor instinctively pulls back, clutching Fishy against his chest before he realizes what he’s doing. These people are being nice to him! He’s supposed to be nice back, why is he being mean? Even though he really doesn’t want to give up Fishy, even for a few moments, he decides to anyway. 

“...Alright. Be careful with him please.” He hands the fish over and watches as Katie pets his scales. Connor frowns slightly. That’s supposed to be his thing. 

His thing? He doesn’t have a thing. He’s an android, these are human children. 

“Okay!! Let’s start building!” Elizabeth claps her hands together in excitement as Xavier takes a bucket and shovel. 

The fort, or castle as they call it, that the begin to construct is going wonderfully. Katie isn’t doing much more than play with Fishy, which is putting Connor a bit on edge but otherwise, this is fun. Xavier and Elizabeth are nice. They’ve been steadily building the walls higher and higher, while Connor carved out a door with his fingers.

“Elizabeth? Can I use my shovel please?” Connor asks nicely. Everyone else took his tools, and he would really like it if he got to use even one. But the look the girl gives him is laced with pure venom all of a sudden. 

“No! I’m using it, plastic!” She shouts, twisting away from Connor’s palm. He’s confused. Plastic? He’s not made of plastic. And that’s his, why can’t she let him use it for a moment? He’s being nice and letting her borrow it, why can’t she be nice back?

“Speaking of plastic,” Xavier peeps from where he’s sitting next to Katie. “Are you really an android? You look like a human!”

Connor suddenly feels very uncomfortable. He mutters a quick ‘yes’, and he hates the gasps of shock that erupt from the other children. 

“Why are you here then? Were you told to build this for your owner?” Xavier’s questions are much less harsh than Elizabeth’s words, he simply seems curious. There’s no malice hidden in his voice, unlike the older girl’s voice.

Before Connor can respond, Elizabeth is speaking for him. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s a broken one! Probably has bugs, like my tablet did when I downloaded something bad on accident.”

Things seem to slow down for Connor, but at the same time, they’re too fast. It’s a surreal experience. Everyone’s words become drowned out by his inner thoughts. No! Tune those back out. Fishy, where’s Fishy? Fishy will help! Get Fishy, get Fishy!!

Sharp screams and sobs wrench Connor back to reality. Fishy is in his hands, and Katie is bawling her eyes out. Elizabeth looks furious, and so does Xavier. 

“Mooooom!” Elizabeth shouts, voice mimicking a cry for help. “Help!” 

Two adult women come dashing over, on their knees immediately. “What happened? Are you hurt?” 

“Not me, but Katie got hurt because of that, that thing!” Elizabeth cries, jabbing a finger in Connor’s face. It hurts his eyes to focus on it since it’s right at the bridge of his nose.

“What did you do to my Katelyn??” The lady with long brown hair yells at him, pushing him down into the sand. Once again on instinct and muscle memory, Connor lashes out and shrieks, scrambling backward as he pants out breaths. Cool down his system, everything is fine it’s fine it’s-

Fishy! He dropped Fishy by the lady! Connor tries to push himself to his feet to reclaim his friend when he sees the Katie is clutching Fishy in her arms. No! 

“That’s mine that’s mine!” Connor yelps as a hand grabs his shoulder and forcefully yanks him back before he can run towards Katie. “I need Fishy please please-”

“What the  _ fuck  _ is going on?” Hank appears, and the hand is removed from his shirt. With tears staining his cheeks, Connor dashes over to the lieutenant and buries his face into his pant leg. Comfort. Safety. Things are slightly better with Hank here.

“Oh, so you’re the brat’s owner.” The woman with mid-length red hair responds with a smirk as if she didn’t just hear what he said.

“Don’t call me that, and don’t you fuckin’ dare go calling Connor a-”

“So it’s got a name! And please, stop swearing, there are children. Human ones, I mean,” The red-haired lady’s words jab at Connor.  _ It. Human ones.  _ “You know, your thing looks pretty messed up. He hurt Katelyn here.” She gestures at the small child weeping in the other woman’s lap. Fishy is still in her hands. 

“‘Katelyn’ has my kid’s fuckin’ stuffed animal.” Hank spits with rage. 

“You’re mistaken, sir. That thing is not a kid, and it surely doesn’t need a stuffed animal. If my friend’s child wants it, well, humans come first.” She laughs, but it’s not a good laugh. It’s an evil and wicked laugh. Connor’s tears fall faster, soaking through Hank’s jeans. 

“Stop calling him a thing, he’s got a name, use it! It’s Connor, for fucks’ sake!” Hank takes a step forward and Connor isn’t prepared since he stumbles forward a bit and then steadies himself. Now he has no one to hold onto. “You’re gonna give me back the damn fish, or things are gonna get nasty.”

“Is that a threat? I think you’re delusional, calling a machine by a human name and giving it a gender. Whatever, we will be on our way since you have successfully ruined our day out.” She shoots back snootily.

Hank curses under his breath. “Not with the goddamn toy you aren’t.” And then, without any more hesitation, the man snatches Fishy free from Katie’s arms. She begins to cry once again, but Hank ignores the sounds as he kneels in front of Connor. 

“Hey, hey kiddo it’s okay, I’m here. Look, here’s Fishy. It’s alright, I’m here.” Hank soothes. Connor takes Fishy into his hands and buries his face into the stuffed animal’s soft fabric. He can’t stop the sobs that choke from his throat. So many things are running through his mind. Bad things. Bad bad bad.

“If I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to call the police!” The red-haired lady shouts. But Hank only smirks.

“At your service.” He responds, flashing his badge. It reflects in the mid-morning sunlight beautifully. 

With an irritated grumble, they’re off, dragging their children along and complaining loudly to one another. Fishy is safe, Fishy is here. 

“The fuck did they do to you Connor? Connor? Are you okay? What did they do??” Hank bends down in front of the weeping child again, trying to touch his shoulder but Connor gasps for air and violently flinches backward, falling onto the ground. 

“Okay, Okay, shit. We’re leaving, okay? You’re safe Connor. You’re safe. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Connor is embarrassed by the sheer amount of tears streaming down his face. His tear ducts will need to be refilled soon. Good thing he knows how to do it. “We’re gonna get you back home, back to Sumo okay? You carry Fishy, I’ll get everything else.”

Connor is ashamed of his hiccuping and how he is avoiding touch. It’s like he can’t control it. It just… happens. Automatically. 

They said he is broken.  _ It  _ is broken. He doesn’t deserve Fishy, or these sand toys, or any of this. 

“Alright, c’mere just follow me, I won’t touch you let’s just go back to the car.” Connor can feel everyone’s eyes burning into his back. He wants to scream.

He doesn’t though, that would make it worse. Everything is building in his chest and Connor doesn’t know what to do. Guilt, guilt and shame and disgust with himself. But he hates how Hank has to reassure him that he won’t be touched. It’s so obvious, everything is so so  _ obvious. _

It’s so obvious and Connor despises it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I was on a roll but something happened with a close friend and that was important for me to figure out. Buuuut! Here it is, in all it's glory. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy today's chapter, and it doesn't feel rushed. It took a bit for me to get motivated since I wanted to just write the sandbox scene already haha. And android racism was bound to happen at some point in this story, unfortunately. But! I promise papahank will make it better 
> 
> You guys rock!!
> 
> EDIT: No update as of 7/28. Things got busy last minute when I had set aside time to write. However, I'll try to make chapter 19 longer to make up for it! It will definitely be up tomorrow. My sincerest apologies!!


	19. Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank calms down Connor.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks, allusions to child abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I'm not lying when I say everytime someone makes fanart, I get actual tears. @Jackadoodledoes on Instagram has made three pieces, here are the links. Be sure to give him love, he's super cool!!  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/Bl09VErFKuX/?hl=en&taken-by=jackadoodledoes  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/Bl1LZwtl3y7/?hl=en&taken-by=jackadoodledoes  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/Bl1XDE5lou_/?hl=en&taken-by=jackadoodledoes

There isn’t much more noise aside from the occasional sniffling and hiccuping from Connor during the ride home from the park. Hank inwardly groans and mentally kicks himself in the shin. He should’ve known something like this would happen, he shouldn’t have taken the kid there in the first place. Now god knows what’s going through his head, and he’s still crying even if it’s more silent.

Connor also appears to be clutching onto Fishy for dear life and Hank can’t blame him. Some bitchy lady tried to give his toy to another kid, a kid who seems to be pretty set in life. If someone took something important of Hank’s and just gave it away, he would be pissed. Pissed and hurt.

Even now, he’s pissed. He can’t believe the nerve of some people. Hank didn’t get to witness the whole thing, but by the time he got there one of the women was yanking Connor backwards and gripping his shoulder with brute force. The sight had filled the lieutenant with unbridled rage. How can someone think that’s even remotely okay?

With the way things are going, it seems as if Hank is doing Connor more harm than good. At least that’s how he thinks of it inside of his mind. The man glances in the rearview mirror at Connor and sighs before returning his eyes to the road. The kid looks so devastated and horrified. 

What is Hank going to say to make things better?? He’s never dealt with things like this before. He’s bound to fuck it up and make it even worse. Fuck. How is he even going to start the conversation? ‘Oh hey so I know those people hurt you and they suck but we can’t do anything i'm sorry hope you feel better’?? Of fuckin’ course not. Then what  _ will  _ he say? Ugh. He’s back to where he started.

The kid likes comfort, probably gives him a feeling of safety. Hank supposes if he is able to make Connor as comfortable as possible, then maybe it won’t be so bad when they try to talk. It’s not a great approach, but it’s the best he’s got.

Pulling into Hank’s driveway, he notices the dark clouds gathering overhead. Dammit. Rain is fuckin’ great and all but with the mood that has already settled in between en the two of them it certainly isn't going to help. Why did the sun have to go away? It was so beautiful this morning.

“Okay kiddo, we’re home.” Hank announces as he climbs out from his seat. He helps Connor out of his carseat and then stands back, hands off. He doesn’t want to accidently trigger anything if he can help it.

Inside the house, Hank checks to make sure that Connor is inside safely before closing and locking the door. Sumo comes barreling forth and nearly knocks the lieutenant over as he tries to reach Connor. Ever since the child has been here, it seems as if Hank is no longer the favorite. Even though he’s the one who feeds him.

Hank takes a moment to observe Connor’s state now that they’re inside the house. The kid looks quite literally shaken up. His previously neat hair is now disheveled and messy and his clothing is stained with moisture from the damp sand. He doesn’t go anywhere, he just stands uncertainly near the door, just as he did the first night. But this time, he’s gripping Fishy and his eyes are out of focus. Tears are a constant but they are gradually becoming less and less as time continues on. They’re not as bad as they were in the car.

Comfort, yes that’s the plan. First things first, get Connor clean clothing. “Hey Connor, I’ve got an idea. Let’s have a pajama day.”

Connor snaps out of his daze to fix his stare upon Hank. “...A pajama day?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s only eleven something, we’ve got time to do it.”

The lieutenant used to have them all the time as a kid, with his older sister. When his older sister decided she was too old for pajama days (which makes no sense you’re never too old for pajamas) he began to do it with his friends. Now, he doesn’t called them pajama days though. Usually he calls them depressed days. But, this is different.

“Um, I’m sorry but… what’s a pajama day?” Connor asks, confusion dripping from his small voice.

“Oh, basically we just wear our pajamas all day. Get cozy, lay around. We can put some back on and relax, how does that sound?” Hank suggests as he closes the curtains. The clouds aren’t letting any light peek through anyways, and since the rain hasn’t begun to fall yet it’s simply gloomy out. As much as Hank enjoys storms, when it’s just generally grey outside then he would rather not look at it.

“I think I’d.. like that.” Connor nods tentatively before slowly bending down to take off his shoes. They’re scuffed. More anger floods Hank’s brain.

Okay, Operation Comfort is a go. “Would you like me to get you some pajamas out?” Hank asks. Connor’s response is a barely audible ‘yeah’, so the man turns and muses over which remaining clean ones would be the comfiest. 

It’s on the chillier side today, so some with long sleeves would be for the best probably. He could just go with the two piece set they bought, or some sweatpants and a sweater. In the end, Hank goes with the latter and he collects a dark grey soft sweater and some navy blue joggers because the sweater felt comfier. He tosses in a pair of black fuzzy socks to go with the outfit.

“Here you go, feel free to change in the bathroom.” That reminds Hank that he probably should get that doorknob fixed now that it’s broken. Still, Connor takes the pile of clothes and wanders off.

Next step in Operation Comfort: set up the couch. Hank hurries over to the couch and unfolds Connor’s blankets, tossing the comforter onto the coffee table for a moment while he arranges the pillows. The throw blanket remains on the couch, and Hank takes the large comforter into his arms. Connor returns at this moment.

“Heya kiddo, you wanna come sit on the couch while I go put on my pjs?” Connor bobs his head up and down. The android’s eyes are dry, but his cheeks are still stained with tears from mere minutes ago. “Alrighty, I’ll be right back.”

Hank runs to the garage and tosses the comforter into the dryer and sets it for five minutes, before entering the house once again. His pajamas are simple; some sweatpants like Connor and a hoodie. Just as he finishes changing, the dryer sounds a song, signalling that it’s short cycle is complete. Perfect.

In the living room, Connor is curled up laying down with the fuzzy blue throw blanket surrounding him like a sushi roll. Hank considers his options before he decides to sneak up from behind the couch and spring up, tossing the warm comforter on top of the child. Of course, the action causes him to jump a little, but soon he relaxes into it despite a confused glance at Hank. The lieutenant shrugs, smiling. 

“Keep you warm. Just put it in the dryer for a few minutes, warm blankets are the best.” Hank explains shortly as he gets himself a glass of water. That was another thing he did as a kid, put the blanket or towels in the dryer to make them all toasty and nice. Next he takes a seat in his reclining chair and pulls a blanket onto his own lap, getting settled in.

The silence that settles between them isn’t unfulfilling in the slightest; in fact, it’s very welcoming and kind. A good moment to think and process what is happening. Everything occurred so quickly, he hasn’t really gotten a chance to properly consider the events from the park. 

What happened at the park shouldn’t have happened at all. Hank should have prevented it from ever getting to that point. He should have been on his damn knees in that sandbox with the kid playing with him so no one would mess with him. But of course not. It’s hard not to blame himself, but he can’t wallow in his own self pity right now. Connor needs him, and Hank needs to know what happened back there.

What provoked such actions? Surely Connor hadn’t  _ actually  _ hurt that lil’ kid, right?

Of course not. Connor wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

“So uh,” Hank clears his throat and shakes away his uncertainty. There isn’t any use for that right now. “How’s the blanket feeling?”

Connor shifts and tightens the blanket around himself before closing his eyes and responding. “Warm. Cozy.” His words are soft, quiet as though he’s afraid to speak any louder. Or perhaps he cannot? It’s probably just that he doesn’t  _ want _ to, which is fine, but Hank still worries.

“Good, that’s how it’s supposed to be,” The chair creaks as Hank stretches. “How about you? How do you feel right now?”

Silence greets them again with a friendly and knowing wave. But now isn’t the time for silence. After a few seconds of thinking, Connor furrows his eyebrows with emotion and focuses his gaze at his feet, knees tucked to his chest. He doesn’t say anything aloud, he simply shrugs while avoiding Hank’s eyes. 

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking about right now?” Hank is greeted with another shrug, a slow and painful one. Wait, he never asked if Connor was injured by those bitc- women. “Are you hurt? Any scrapes or bruises?” The man questions, pleading to whatever god that Connor won’t just shrug.

He doesn’t. Instead, he nods. Hank’s expression grows worried, and Connor points to his shoulder, and then gently rolls up the hem of his sweatpants to display a good patch of torn artificial skin. There isn’t much fresh blood anymore, but it’s evident enough that it bled a fair amount before clotting and sealing. How do android wounds even work? Nevermind that, it’s not the time.

“I’m gonna grab those new bandages, alright?” Connor nods again, leaving his right leg (the injured one) sprawled across the couch while his other leg remains close to his chest. Hank hastened out to the car, where he left the box in a hurry earlier. He snatches it up and sprints back inside. He’s afraid to leave Connor alone for too long, especially after something like  _ that  _ just happened when he let the kid play a few meters away from him. “Okay, okay here they are.”

In the house, Hank hands the box to Connor. He assumes that the child still doesn’t want to be touched, so he allows him to do it on his own. The android uses three of them before giving the box back and crumpling the wrappers together. Hank takes those too and tosses them in the trash bin. 

Back in his chair, the lieutenant begins to speak. “What do you want to do?” He is granted another shrug. “Can I ask some things?”

This shrug is a mixture between a simple shrug and a nod, so Hank takes that as an ‘okay, I guess’. 

“Can you talk to me for the questions?” Hank asks carefully, as if he is cautiously avoiding dropping a small puppy onto the hard pavement, or like he has a slippery glass cup that he has to continue to adjust his grip on until it stays. Careful. 

“It’s hard,” Connor begins, rolling the leg of his pants back down. “...I can try?” His words are soft and barely audible, but it’s something.

“Good, that’s all I need you to do for me. Okay, can you try to walk me through what happened?” 

Immediately, Connor’s breathing appears to hitch as the rise and fall of his chest halts for a brief moment. To someone else, it might have meant nothing. But to Hank, in this very situation, it means Connor is afraid. Connor is scared of what they did.

“U-um, I made a sand fort and then those kids came over and wanted to build one with me and the little girl, um, Katie? She wanted to hold Fishy,” The android’s grip around the stuffed fish tightens. “I let her and then I went to build the fort with the older kids. They, um, mostly Elizabeth, didn’t let me use the toys you bought me. I asked Elizabeth if I could use a shovel and she got um, really mad and didn’t let me touch it. She called me ‘plastic’, which I didn’t understand because I’m  _ not _ plastic, I wasn't made with any?”

Hank’s heart wrenches in his chest. That insult, the same one he constantly thought of himself about androids. Now that same insult was thrown at Connor. Connor, a small child who doesn’t even understand the meaning behind it. Still, he nods to show the child it’s okay to continue. 

“Then the older boy, uh I think his name started with an X? He asked if I am really an android, since he said I looked human. I told him yes and everybody was shocked, I didn’t like it,” Connor mumbles. The words a lumping together so they’re harder for Hank to understand. “He asked why I was there then, he asked if I was building the fort for ‘my owner’” The words make Hank want to throw up. You don’t  _ own  _ a fuckin’ person. “I couldn’t tell him that I don’t have an owner. I don’t think he meant to be mean, he just sounded curious.”

Of course, he's not finished yet. “Before I could say anything to him, Elizabeth, she-um, she said,” Connor swallows and his breathing quickens as he closes his eyes to repeat her words hastily. “She said I’m broken and compared me to her tablet when it was broken with viruses.”

The lieutenant can’t help the rage that pools in his stomach. Surely he can’t put all the blame on this child, she looked around eight or nine years old. Not to mention that her Mom obviously forces her anti-android opinions onto the child. But still, he has never wanted to fist fight a child more in his life. 

“Then everything got all… I dunno…. Weird? It was foggy and fuzzy and I wanted Fishy I was having, um, bad thoughts. I took Fishy from Katie but I don’t really remember what I did to get him back. Her crying made me, snap out of it? Is that the right saying?” Hank nods. “Well it all stopped being blurry and Fishy was in my hands and Elizabeth and the X boy looked really mad.”

The pieces are beginning to fit together for Hank, but he allows Connor to continue again. “Elizabeth yelled to her Mom for help and those two ladies came over. Elizabeth told them I hurt Katie, which I didn't!! I don’t think I did, I can’t remember, but I’m sure I didn’t!”

“It’s okay, I’m sure you di-“ Hank soothes, but he’s cut off as Connor starts once again.

“The brown haired lady, she asked what I did to Katie and then she-” Connor jolts forward, lurching from previous position and emitting a soft sob. Hank assumes the women hurt Connor in some way, but of course he wasn’t there to witness it. How fucking dare she.

“Connor, look at me, it’s alright,” Hak reassures. As much as he hates to do this, he has to get the last little bit of information. “Can you tell me what she did?”

The child’s voice trembles a fair amount as he pulls himself together enough to continue. “She, she pushed me into the ground and I couldn’t stop myself!! I lashed out and I was screaming and it was dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb!! And, and! Then I started crying for Fishy because I dropped him when I fell and Katie took him back!! I tried to go over there to get him but one of the ladies, she grabbed my shoulder and that’s where it hurts! Am I really just that broken?? I’m an idiot! Why did my mind start thinking about t-”

“Hey hey hey Connor, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Hank is up and out of his chair, sitting a safe distance away from the android on the couch now. “You’re  _ not  _ broken. They don’t know you kid. You’re not broken at all and you’re the furthest thing from an idiot. You can’t stop how your body instinctively reacts Connor. It’s job is to keep you safe.

“I shouldn’t have asked for the shovel back!!” Connor wails, head tipping upwards and tears stream backwards down to his ears. “I should’ve just stayed quiet!! I should’ve just let Katie have Fishy!! Like the lady said, humans are more important, they come first!! She deserved it more than me, I don’t deserve Fishy or you or anythiiiinnnnggg.” He breaks off into a long cry, hiccuping as he tries to complete the word.

“You’ve gotta stop saying that, it’s not true. You deserve Fishy, okay? You deserve to have someone care about you and you deserve a warm and safe home and clean clothes and toys. You deserve so much more than just that but Connor, you deserve to be happy okay?? You can’t change the past, and you did nothing wrong. You’re a good kid Connor, you’re good.” Hank desperately wants to scoop Connor up into his arms and cradle him until everything feels okay again, but he can’t touch the kid. Not unless he gives him permission; anything could set him off and it’s best to be as cautious as possible. 

Connor doesn’t seem to be able to speak in coherent sentences anymore as he bawls violently. It’s in times like this that Hank needs to remind himself that one day, Connor crying will be a rarity. But of course, for now, it’s an everyday occurance. He’s far from angry, it just pains him to watch it happen.

What begins to freak Hank out though is when Connor’s eyes begin to glaze over and the sobs are quieting down suddenly. The man leaps to his feet and stands in front of Connor, waving his hands and snapping. The child immediately glances up, eyes alert once again. “Connor, I need you to nod yes or no. Are you getting bad thoughts right now?”

He nods frantically, tears resuming. “Are you having memories?” Another urgent nod. “Do you think you’re going to have a flashback?” 

A third nod is all it takes for Hank to gently sit next to Connor and beckon for the child to come over to his embrace. Connor’s glance darts around wildly, as if he’s terrified. But after a moment, he sluggishly crawls over and collapses on the lieutenant’s lap. 

There, okay. Now Hank just has to hope that this works, even just this once. He hopes that the comfort Connor feels from his hug and soft shushes of reassurance will bring him away from those memories and distract him enough to calm him down. So far, it seems to be doing a small amount of good. 

“Hey, listen kiddo you’re safe. No one can hurt you here, no one. It’s just you, me, Sumo and Fishy in this house and we’re all safe and we’re all okay,” Hank comforts as Connor’s cries grow quieter until they seem to stop completely. “You’re safe, I promise.”

“P-p-pinky p-promise?” Connor stutters. That’s the only remainder of his previous cries.

“Hell yeah it’s a pinky promise,” Hank and Connor link pinkies, and shake. “Now, can you tell me what I can do for you right now?” 

“I d-dunno.” The android shrugs and pulls his pinkie away.

Thunder sounds and rain comes crashing down, pelting the roof and windows harshly. The wind has been going strong since they got home, but Hank can clearly hear it from inside now. Hopefully there won’t be anymore power outages, the one the other night was enough. Still, the sudden storm gives a gentle and comfortable ambience to the house, and the yellow lights of Hank’s lamps make him want to pull out a book and read, or curl up with some popcorn and watch a movie. 

But this is about Connor, not Hank. 

“Why don’t we go open up the curtains now that it’s raining?” Hank suggests. Connor nods and shimmies off of Hank’s lap before curling back up in his own pillow and blanket nest. The man strides over to the windows and pull the curtains to the side before smiling out at the storm.

 

Connor stares down at Fishy, who is settled in his lap.  _ I’m sorry they tried to take you Fishy, that must’ve been scary.  _ He only thinks this inside his mind so of course the stuffed fish doesn’t respond, but something about speaking to Fishy makes him feel slightly better. 

A sharp ache is clawing at Connor’s shoulder, and no matter how he stretches or turns, it doesn’t relieve itself. The pain in his knee is gone, it wasn’t too deep of a scrape. Connor shudders as he thinks about what the lady did to him to cause this immense pain in his shoulder. The way her fingers dug into his skin and she had an iron gip, as though she wanted to rip his arm off. The thought of getting his arm removed again terrified him.

No, he’s not gonna think about that. So long as he’s in control, he’s not thinking about that.

Hank returns from the windows and smils down at Connor. There’s pity in his eyes, the android can feel it. It makes him hot with shame, and he wants to burrow into the blankets. So that’s exactly what he does. 

“What, hiding from me now?” Hank doesn’t pull of the blanket, instead he just eases himself into the sit on the other side of the couch. Or at least, that’s what Connor thinks is happening. He can’t really tell from under here. “Are we pretending to be rocks?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t his original plan, but it sure is the plan now. He stops his artificial breathing because he isn’t overheating and technically doesn’t need to at the moment, and stills all body movements.

“Shiiiit, kid, you literally look like a rock covered with a blanket,” Hank chuckles. “Okay, you wanna c’mon out now?”

The android complies and pokes his head out, but thats all. He resumes his breathing, and allows himself to move again. As he moves, his shoulder stings again. “Hank?”

“Yeah?”

“My shoulder really hurts.” Connor admits, rubbing it with his knuckles. 

“Mind if I take a look?” Connor shakes his head no so Hank moves over and peeks at his shoulder. Hank’s hands are warm. Connor’s are not. 

They’ll never be warm.

No, don’t think about that.

“Jesus, that fucking bitch,” Hank curses underneath his breath. “Your shoulder seems to be, uh, dislocated? Or the android equivalent of such?”

“What does that mean?”

“Wellm for a human it would mean the bone is out of the socket,” Connor makes a face. “Yeah, I know. Pretty gross. But you guys have detachable limbs, but I suppose that isn’t painless for you?”

Connor quickly shakes his head no. “No, it definitely hurts when any of my limbs are detached.” Now that he thinks about it, the pain is quite similar to the one he felt when they took his arm off. That pain was more fierce and unbearable though, this one is certainly hurting but not near as bad as that did. 

“Well, I think what happened is your arm is halfway detatched, and that’s what is causing you pain? I think?” Hank sounds uncertain of himself. Connor shrugs, he knows how to put his arm back in. 

“I’ll fix it then.” He replies, and before Hank can react Connor is already twister his arm and biting down hard on his tongue to try and ignore the immense pain. And suddenly, relief washes over him. It’s back in place. 

“Holy shit, you just fucking made your arm go all the way around.” Hank sounds both disgusted and interested. 

“It does not hurt any longer, I think I fixed the issue.” Connor responds, Now he can lay comfortably. 

“So, do you have any ideas of what you want to do yet?” Hanks asks, patting for Sumo to come sit between them. The gigantic Saint Bernard leaps onto the couch with a single bound, leaving fur everywhere in his wake. 

“Ummm…” Connor didn’t even consider it. “I just kind of want to sleep, if that’s alright.”

“Hell yeah it’s alright, you’re in your PJ’s and everything already,” Hank combs his fingers through Sumo’s fur and Connor mimics him. Sumo is soft and warm. The android rests his head on the dog. “I think I’m gonna eat some lunch and then read or take a nap too, so if I’m asleep when you wake up, just push me off the couch.”

It feels nice to let out a small laugh, but Connor immediately swallows it and feels guilty. He shouldn’t be enjoying himself right after having a meltdown, then it seems like he’s faking it. He probably is. No, stop it. “I’m not gonna push you, but I will wake you up.”

“Okay, deal.” Hank stands up and passes by Connor as he enters the kitchen. It’s so odd to Connor that he is allowed to complain about his pain without getting more hurt. 

How wonderful it is to be able to speak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder to go check out @Jackadoodledoes on Instagram!! Also, if you want to chat with me or send me anything, I'm on both Twitter and Instagram @beanboredom :))
> 
> Sorry this is a half an hour late, I got distracted haha. Not to mention that I didn't even update yesterday oops. A friend invited me out for coffee at 9pm and I couldn't refuse, and that was the time I had set aside yesterday for writing. Oh well, here it is now!
> 
> And sorry Connor's POV is short, I wasn't even going to include it this chapter but I decided to anyways since I love my roomba bb
> 
> I'll stop rambling, I love you all you're the best :))))


	20. Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor thinks and then goes outside in the rain.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Depersonalization/derealization, allusions to past child abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously im gonna die if you guys keep this up but im not complaining like keep the art coming 
> 
> @cometkings on instagram made this absolutely amazing piece of fanart of Connor with Fishy and if you guys don't look then you're missing out. Here's the link  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/Bl62NjlF75F/?hl=en&taken-by=cometkings

The storm is a loving embrace to Detroit, embracing Connor in its comforting arms and soothing rhythms. Thrumming, strumming, tapping against the roof and glass windows of this small house. It’s almost as if it is eloquently dancing down from above, from the sky to the earth. A solemn sigh of wind flutters through the trees and Connor listens to them sway and shake their green foliage.

With the yellow light glimmering and glowing its ambient lighting, the room is cozy and safe. The house is dark aside from the few lamps, and Connor silently appreciates the mood of the house at the moment. It’s welcoming and forgiving, and he relishes in that safety. It’s like he has nothing to fear and no worries to be had. Like this morning and yesterday and everything bad has never happened, and he can only recall the good moments like watching the movie with Hank or baking cookies or Sumo and Fishy. Like the black fuzzy socks on his feet. 

They’re warm, soft, fluffy. His toes wiggle and soak up all of the pleasant emotions he can get from the comfort. Such a pure and unbridled form of safety. 

The comforter he’s tucked in has long since lost its heat by now, but the weight of both it and the throw blanket above Connor makes him feel alright. It’s almost like a constant hug, a way to drown out any possible noise his head may create. 

Because of the relaxation and ease he is feeling, Connor is somehow able to think clearly and detach himself from his own emotions. The fog has drifted for a moment, it will surely be back soon enough. Maybe it’s only because his system is still in the process of awakening from standby, but for whatever reason right now his mind is clear and the panic has nestled itself away in some odd corner of his head. 

With this granted moment of clarity, Connor’s mind drifts far back into his memories. There isn’t much reason why, if he’s honest. Maybe a part of him needs to think about it, or maybe deep down he needs to sort this out. No matter the reason, he thinks back to a time near to when he first began to feel pain. Even now, they were never able to locate what exactly went wrong in his coding. But obviously there is something wrong, machines don’t feel pain. That’s what got him into all of this trouble. 

What he’s experiencing isn’t a flashback, no it can’t be that. He’s much too calm, and he knows he’s not really there. The flashbacks, as Hank coined them, made him feel like it was happening to him again. He was back there at the tower. But, right now it’s just as if he’s recalling normal everyday memories. 

He feels utterly uninvolved with his own mind as if there’s no sadness or content, just observations. It’s peaceful and full of bliss.

Perhaps it’s those words Elizabeth spoke, the jab that he’s broken. Perhaps that is what beckons to this train of thought but Connor cannot be entirely sure. After all, he doesn’t feel like anything right now. The reason for these memories to surge forth could be near to anything. What matters is that they’re here in his mind.

Doctor Delarosa, that was her name. She didn’t seem to be a doctor by the human standards of one, but that’s what Connor was told to refer to her as so he did. There was no reason to disobey anyway. The image of her is still clear as day to the android- her stiff uniform with the little silver nameplate, her sleek black hair always tucked into a neat little bun, her condescending smirk that never seemed to leave except when she was angry. She was what someone might describe as insatiable. She was never satisfied with leaving the work where it was. There was always more to be done, more to be learned.

Even still, the child is vaguely aware that even higher up people were in charge of her and ordered her to do a lot of what she did, so he doesn’t really blame her. Although, if he wasn’t in such a tranquil state he might become upset at the mention of her name. Connor doesn’t like to be quick to blame people if he’s honest.

But now, it’s as if he’s disconnected from himself. These aren’t his memories, or that’s what it feels like at least. These are the memories and recollections of an entirely separate entity from Connor. 

The first time he met Doctor Delarosa, he had been called into her office and she instantly commanded him to take a seat in one of the large cushioned chairs. It felt as if it was swallowing Connor whole as he sat down in it carefully. Pillows were nestled on either side of him, a comfort that he gratefully drank in. He had been nervous; the glares from the stern-faced men who brought him here had told him this wasn’t to be a friendly meeting. 

Which was why Connor was wholeheartedly shocked when Dr. Delarosa spoke with a gentle and soothing voice and she didn’t immediately begin to yell like a lot of the other people he met recently had. She introduced herself as the person overseeing what was going to be happening to him. The experiments. He was compliant, he had no reason not to be. Of course, at the time Connor had no clue they were going to be so painful or torturous. How could they? This woman was claiming they would only do what was necessary. 

Of course, that fizzled out into ‘we have total control over you’ as time went by. It simply became a lie that he kept telling himself. But when they laughed at him or berated him that wasn’t constantly necessary. When the person testing if he still felt pain for the umpteenth time pressed the flame back to his arm again just because they could that wasn’t necessary. Connor might forget this once he’s out of this clear trance, but for right now he knows that at the very least those things were most certainly not necessary. 

That’s why when she began to scream at him he should have seen the lie coming. But he didn’t. Dr. Delarosa appeared so genuine and kind that he thought the yelling must have happened because of something he had done. Which was true, in a way.

During that same first meeting, Connor said something wrong. He mentioned an emotion he thought he had felt on accident, a slip of the tongue really. 

That emotion was fear. 

Connor mentioned how he was afraid, nervous perhaps, to come and meet her. How fear bubbled threateningly in his abdomen once the men in stiff suits came to collect him. How he couldn’t help but fidget with his sleeves as he was led down the pristine hallways. 

He shouldn’t have said that, that is what had provoked such a harsh reaction. She began to angrily go off about how androids don’t  _ “feel” _ anything. It’s all pretend, it’s all malfunctions and errors in his coding. He’s just a machine, and machines feel nothing. He will never be more than that. If he never mentioned anything about emotions, maybe things would have been easier. But of course, he had to mess up and make things absolutely worse for himself.

After that first meeting, the doctor began to drill that into Connor’s brain day by day. It’s true, he is a machine and he is an android. His pain, his emotions, they’re software errors that never got worked out. He’s broken, just as Elizabeth said. Just like how she compared him to her broken tablet. That’s what he is, a machine designed to complete tasks for humans, not for himself. 

It’s much easier to believe that than to change his thinking. 

Weird emotions, malfunctions, whatever they are, are running through Connor’s mind. Something akin to apathy is dwelling deep in his chest, bubbling and intertwining with denial tightly. They are similar and work well together to take over Connor’s mind, at least usually. Right now, he’s too distant to care. 

The best way Connor can describe this feeling is like he’s listening to someone else's thoughts. It’s also somewhat like he hasn’t actually come out of standby mode just yet. It’s not bad, since he can’t really process these things as his own feelings. They’re someone else's right now.

Doctor Delarosa’s office was always very tidy, but it had this somewhat cluttered feel to it. Little knick-knacks, photo frames, and books were scattered around. They were all on shelves of some sort instead of being tucked away and hidden. That was one of the reasons Connor had felt such utter trust to her words and her promises, she just felt so  _ real. _ No one showed him what things really are like aside from the pristine walls of the cyberlife tower except for her and her office. 

That doesn’t mean she was a good person though. 

She didn’t decorate her room to please Connor or to make him feel welcome. She decorated it because that’s how she wanted it, it had nothing to do with him. Yet somehow his mind, his mind that is so desperate to find a reason to blame himself and not her, thought it was a reason to trust her. Of course, it wasn’t though.

In fact, the thought still vaguely stirs some unease within Connor now that he thinks deeper about her. She was the one who personally told him that everything was happening for a reason. She told him he deserved it until he believed it. And now he can’t  _ stop  _ believing it.

She made Connor upset.

She told Connor he is broken and laughed about it. She was the one who officially conducted the experiments. She was the one who ordered him to be deactivated and shut down permanently.

Doctor Delarosa has made it so Connor despises himself, all thanks to her conditioning and coaxing. 

_ That’s  _ **_enough._ ** Connor hissed inside of his mind, wishing he didn’t allow himself to drift so far down. Of course, from the very beginning, he knew the fog would wear off. And now that it is, the thoughts will affect him. 

They are affecting him, in ways Connor hates to admit. He’s slightly on edge, blue blood pumping a tad bit faster than it should. System temperatures higher than they’re supposed to be, causing an increase in breathing. 

“Hank?” Connor is surprised by the softness of his own voice. Did it sound like this before he went to sleep? Now that he considers it, he wasn’t very aware of what was happening at that time. 

“Oh, hey you’re awake,” The child cranes his neck to spot Hank on the other end of the couch. The man is closing the cover of a book. “Somethin’ up?”

Now that the android is confronted with the task of actually confessing, he isn’t so sure he wants to bring up Doctor Delarosa to Hank. He’s just enjoying his afternoon, why should Connor ruin that? Now that anxiety begins to riddle him, he shrugs instead of speaking what he originally was going to say.

“Seriously, what’s up? Can’t just gimme a shrug, it worries me,” Hank persists. Connor feels weirdly guilty when he shakes his head no in response. He shouldn’t have done that. “Uh, Didja have a nightmare?”

“No.”

“Thoughts?”

“Kind of.” Guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt.

That’s the truth though, why is there still guilt? Probably because he’s not elaborating.

“Could you explain a bit further?” Connor wants to say no. Surely Hank wants him to say no and would be happy if he did, he doesn’t actually want to know. “I’m not a mind reader but I still want to help if I can.”

“It’s not a big deal. Weird memories,” Hank doesn’t look convinced as Connor responds breezily, tone light. No hint to the touch of panic dwelling inside of him. “Could you get me a glass of water?” The child asks suddenly. He remembers his tear ducts are probably dry and that’s dangerous. 

“Uh, can’t you not eat or drink??” Hank sounds increasingly concerned. “Does this have to do with your thoughts?”

“No. My tear ducts, they’re dry. I just need to ‘drink’ some water and it’ll be fine.” This is a good distraction from the subject at hand. This is good, Hank will forget all about his stupid thoughts and Connor can forget about them too and forget about feeling guilty. 

Hank immediately stands as if he’s ready for anything. “Yeah okay sure,” He urgently leaves the living room and Connor can hear the sound of the faucet running a steady stream of water, splashing into a cup. “Here, is this enough?”

There are two ice cubes in the water. Connor doesn’t need cold water, it won’t make a difference. But Hank decided to go out of his way to make this a little nicer, make him feel a little more human. A little more important.

“It should be, yes. Thank you.” Connor doesn’t hesitate any longer to dump half the glass of water into his mouth and swallow it all at once. This is one of the only times he gets to feel what it might be like to eat something. He can’t taste the water but he can feel it slide down his throat and down some tube into a compartment somewhere. The rest of the liquid goes down too, and an alert signals to Connor that his tear ducts are 86% full. That’s plenty. 

He’s done this many times before, it’s almost second nature.

“Are you.. uh… good now?” Hank questions, an edge to his voice. It’s as sharp as knives. 

Connor gives an affirmative nod but doesn’t look Hank in the face. A dead giveaway at this point, but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he slowly climbs off the couch and carries the now empty glass to the kitchen, setting it down on the counter that he can’t see the top of. It wobbles a bit but lands safely. Good. 

“What’re you doing?” The lieutenant’s tone is obviously concerned, Connor is well aware.

“Stretching my legs, cleaning up after myself.” Connor keeps his voice simple and unrevealing. Maybe the guilt is coming from the fact that he told Hank he would tell him these things, he pinky promised him. But he’s breaking that promise right now. 

Instead of saying anything else, he gives himself this moment to turn and stare out the kitchen window. It’s stained with raindrops creating a blurry yet beautiful image. It’s slight pitter patters sound like pebbles gently tapping on the house. The wind’s huffing and Connor stares as the clouds move slowly across the sky. The distant roar and crackle of thunder brings him eases 

He wants to be outside in the rain, feeling it fall out of his hands and it splashing against his hair.

Approximately two seconds later after this thought, Connor is spinning on his heel doing a complete 180 and running to the door on complete and utter Impulse. His thirium is pumping so hard oddly enough that it overpowers Hank’s voice and all that is left is a faint mumble the android can’t quite make out.

This is clearly an idiotic decision, but at the moment Connor couldn’t care less. He wants the rain, that’s all there is to it. 

No shoes, no coat. Fuzzy socks and pajamas and messy hair. Cold water instantly soaks his sweater and his hair, causing it to curl up slightly. It’s wet, wet against his toes and his arms and his everything. Bitterly cold against everything. 

The middle of the street where there aren’t any trees to block his vision, that’s where he ends up. Connor cranes his neck and grins a pained smile as he can sense the annoying tears that he just refilled begin to pour out. The rain pelts his face at the same time and he has to shut his eyes, but he’s grateful for it since then the tears aren’t noticeable. He reaches his hands up to the sky and jumps, trying to catch the clouds. They’re so lonely, just like the stars. They look so soft and lonely. He can reach them, surely he can. Surely he can!!

Maybe the tears are from guilt, or maybe they’re from this morning. Maybe they’re from Doctor Delarosa or maybe they’re from himself. Why should it matter? He’s smiling, smiling through them even though it hurts.

Connor leaps up again as he grasps desperately at the air. He’s a mess- tears and soaked with rain, delusional. But he doesn’t care. Again he jumps, and lightning flashes violently in the distance. The moment he lands is when the thunder growls in response and his grin grows as the tears fall rapidly. Again. Again. Again he jumps to the cloud-ridden sky, those charcoal grey beautifully sculpted clouds teasing him. Something inside of him is turning and churning and bubbling beneath the surface. It wants to get out, he wants to get it out. It needs to get out! What is it? What could it be?? He just has to try harder, jump a little bit higher. Push himself more, more, why can’t he reach them? Why does it matter? Why??

“Connor!!” 

A voice cuts through the wind and through the air that flippantly tosses Connor’s hair swiftly away from his forehead in a single fluid motion. Hank, that’s who the voice belongs to. Of course it is, who else would have such care and concern in their voice for the android? Who else would call out for him at all? Who else knows his name? Nobody. Nobody except this fool who thinks Connor is better than he really is. Those delusions have never and will never be true. 

But Connor can’t help the urge that builds within him to allow himself to collapse in the middle of this dead street and let Hank comfort him until he’s back to a different state of mind- his own delusional state of mind. The times when he thinks maybe things will be alright even though they certainly won’t. They can’t. 

Those delusions are pointless. They said so, she said so, everyone said so. Connor says so. 

Hank doesn’t, and he’s the only one. It’s everyone against him, of course, he’s wrong. It’s a complete imbalance, no possible way that the lieutenant is correct. 

But a part of him needs to believe it. Just for a second, so he can breathe easy again. 

That’s why he turns to face Hank head on. The man is standing on the edge of his grass, fear engrained deep in his expression as he rubs his arms. He’s got nothing more than his pajamas on, the same as Connor. He’s soaked to the core as well. 

“Please for fuck's sake Connor, get outta the damn street before I have a heart attack.” Hank might as well have begged. 

Connor’s body complies even if his mind is running wild. His body wants him to be safe like Hank said. Of course, he shouldn’t have run out here, let it be in the street or on the porch. He gave Hank absolutely no warning, how selfish. The man must be worried out of his right mind thanks to Connor just fleeing from indoors on impulse. 

Brown hair sticks to Connor’s face as he hangs his head low, refusing to look at Hank’s face out of shame. These impulse actions need to get under control, that’s obvious. Not for himself but for Hank’s sanity, certainly, he’s suffering thanks to it.

There’s really no good place to begin once they enter the house. “I wasn’t trying to die,” Connor states bluntly, just to get it out of the way because that’s an inevitable question. 

“I-I figured you weren’t,” Hank brushes his dripping hair away from his eyes and sighs. “But you can’t just fucking run out there without giving me any warning.” 

The guilt churns. “I know.” 

“Go get changed. Then we’re gonna get this figured out.” Hank commands in a tired and exasperated voice. 

Connor feels a bit sad, he can’t wear his black fuzzy socks anymore today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to check out @cometkings on instagram!!
> 
> Oh my god I'm so sorry I haven't uploaded in a few days. Something came up one night, then I decided to wait because I wanted this chapter to be really good. I hope it lives up to my expectations haha.
> 
> Also, I swear I will reply to comments tomorrow!! I have been so busy and I think I'm getting a stomach bug again (what is up with me getting sick??) but things are good!! I really appreciate the comments and I promise to respond ASAP.
> 
> One last thing! Updates might be a bit off schedule for a bit, since certain things are going on but I’m working really hard at them and I hope that shows through!


	21. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hank have a talk. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: allusions to last child neglect/abuse, negative self talk

Body and clothes drenched to the bone with rain, hair limp and soaked. That’s the image Hank sees as he stares into the mirror at himself. His reflection glares right back. Posture rigid and stiff, back upright and no slouching in sight. It’s unfriendly and angers him, quite frankly. He couldn’t do jack shit to stop any of that, he just watched pathetically and called out the kid’s name pitifully. And here he is, wallowing in his own self-loathing while Connor is out there doing god knows what now.

What he really needs to do is get out of these damn clothes and go talk things out with Connor. That’s easier said than done though. Hank needs a minute to breathe and compose himself, that was a lot to deal with. This day feels like it’s dragging on forever and will never stop.

His bedroom is dark, he couldn’t be bothered to turn on any lights or lamps. Hank allows his muscles to go limp and he collapses on his floor without caring in the slightest if it gets damp from his clothing. All he needs is to close his eyes and breathe. Stop thinking, breathe. Breathe.

Once again, easier said than done. The image of Connor just jumping at the sky, in the fucking street mind you, continues to replay over and over in Hank’s mind. In a way, it almost seemed surreal. Like he was watching a movie or staring at a painting, like he was just waiting for the moment the suspense leads to the climax. Any moment the hero would come and save the day and comfort, Connor, make him feel better and lead him to safety.

Although Hank brought the kid inside, he certainly isn’t that protagonist hero from the mental movie he is creating. He snapped at the kid, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t run out there and grab him out of the way of any possible cars, he couldn’t do anything. All he did was watch and wait for Connor to snap out of it himself. He was helpless.

What Hank really needs to do is kick himself in the shin, change his damn clothes and go make things better for Connor. But- fuck, he can’t do that. He can only do so much, he doesn’t know what to say and what to do. Did the kid have a flashback? His eyes- oh god he looked so out of it, like he couldn’t understand what was happening or what Hank was saying. But there was no screaming, and he had been smiling, _smiling_ as he was leaping towards the sky. What the hell was he trying to achieve there? Was it simply delusions, or was it something more?

God, he really needs to get up and stop overthinking this. It will only drive him mad.

The new clothes Hank puts on is simply more pajamas, because seriously who gives a fuck, they’re not leaving this house anytime soon anyways. Without a second thought, Hank tosses his wet clothing in the corner, once again, who gives a fuck? Obviously not him.

With the new sweatshirt and sweatpants on, Hank takes a quick glance back in his mirror. His eyes are tired and foreign to him, dark bags hanging heavily beneath them. He quickly shakes his head clear of any lingering thoughts and leaves his bedroom. This is fine, everything will be fine. Nothing to worry about.

Connor is sitting on the couch, stiff as a board. Head straight forward, hands on his thighs and legs dangling off the side of the seat. Hank frowns. The kid absolutely _loves_ comfort, that seems like it’s the furthest thing from comfortable. Of course, things won’t be easy, why would they be? Not to mention the lack of fuzzy socks that Connor seems to have grown extremely fond of. That is especially concerning, along with the fact that the child is wearing a stiff t-shirt and jeans, the exact opposite of pajamas, another source of comfort for him. Something’s up, and that something cannot be good.

Another thing to note is that Connor’s hair is still dripping wet as if he didn’t take the time to dry it at all, not even with a towel quickly. At least Hank used his sopping sweatshirt to squeeze out most of the moisture onto. His brows furrowed in concern as he steps forward to spot a circling yellow light on Connor’s temple. Every few seconds it flashes and then returns to spinning.

Hank’s heart twists and something seems to constrict his airway, cutting off the passage of oxygen for a brief moment. Now that he is closer, he can spot Connor’s trembling hands and how Fishy is settled on the coffee table next to the last two clean pairs of fuzzy socks and the notebook Hank gave the android. Why are those things there? Why them specifically?

Here goes nothing. Hank certainly isn’t prepared or trained in the slightest, but what other options does he have? The lieutenant cautiously takes a seat in his reclining chair, not bothering to kick out the leg rest. This isn’t the time to get relaxed.

“Connor?” Hank doesn’t like the uncertainty in his voice, in fact, it really bothers him. “Kid, what happened to Pajama Day?”

The child inhales a sharp breath at the question, closing his eyes and clenching his fist on the fabric of his jeans. “I cannot wear pajamas when you return me to Cyberlife.”

His response is so somber, resigned, there’s absolutely no hint of hope left in that small voice of his. The words pierce directly into Hank’s chest, making him want to sputter and gasp for air desperately. The oxygen is gone, knocked out of him for a brief moment. Connor thinks he’s going to fucking _abandon_ him to the same place that fucking tortured him for god knows how long. He thinks this all because he had a meltdown, he probably thinks this because Hank snapped. Goddammit, of course, he shouldn’t have done that. Hank isn’t an idiot, he just- he just was so panicked and frantic, he couldn’t voice what he wanted to truly say. All he could do was stumble and trip whilst speaking, blindly lashing out with his emotions and fear. The fear of losing another one to a car, a car that could come out of nowhere.

That’s why Fishy, the fuzzy socks, and the notebook are on the table. Connor thought he had to leave, those must be the only things he thought he would take with him.

Fuck.

Of course Hank isn’t abandoning Connor. That might have been his plan on night one, but dammit, now he can’t do that. This kid needs him and perhaps, embarrassingly enough, maybe Hank needs him too. Something had been missing for years in his heart, and it feels like it’s been slowly being filled since Connor first arrived. Bit by bit, the hole is packed shut with those sweet smiles of his and the times when he is happy.

Yet Hank is painfully aware that not all times will be like that. This is one of those times, a brutal awakening. Like cold water splashed on your face when you’re half asleep, or a sudden wound that causes splitting pain throughout your entire body. A shock, that’s what it is called.

Times like this will come and go, he needs to remember that and so does Connor. That’s something they cannot forget.

“Fuck- Connor I’m not, hell I’m not _abandoning_ you. You’re never going back there, never ever,” Hank pushes out of his seat and switches to sit on the other side of the couch once again. This seems to have become his designated spot. “God, this is new for me too. It’s an entirely different world caring for you. But I need you to try and trust that I’m not going to let anyone take you away, and I’m certainly not going to give you up to anyone.”

All Connor does in response is pull his knees up close to his chest and tucks his chin overtop of them after wrapping his arms around them. He looks so worn out, like faded words on the page of an old novel. Hank isn’t ready to drop this subject yet.

“Seriously, they’ll get you back over my dead body. You’re staying here with me for as long as you want to Connor.” Maybe Hank has some selfish reasons to want Connor to stay. Maybe he wants him to stay because he reminds him of someone he so desperately misses. Maybe he doesn’t want to lose that again. Maybe that’s okay though.

Because he also knows Connor deserves a much better life than he had before. That life, it wasn’t living. Connor had been in life survival mode. He deserves to be a kid, Jesus. If Hank has some selfish reasons deep down, so be it. But he will put the other reasons upfront and foremost. Top priority is keeping Connor happy for _Connor,_ not for Hank.

That’s how things should and will be.

“What if I want to stay here forever?”

The words cause Hank’s head to snap up from where his gaze had previously been fixed on his hands. Of course, it isn’t like Hank hasn’t considered that possibility. And really there’s no reason to say no, he just said he will let Connor stay for as long as he wants. If that time is forever, then alright he already promised. He has his worries of course; Connor will never grow up, Hank will die someday, etc. But who cares, _who cares._ Hank’s a fucking softy, _who gives a shit?_ This kid needs him. Those things can be dealt with when the problem arises. No need to worry about something that isn’t happening.

“Then you will stay here forever.” Hank’s voice remains steady and confident.

“You don’t want to get rid of me?” Connor whispers in question.

“God no. I want you here if I didn’t then you wouldn’t be here. _I want you here,”_ Hank repeats for emphasis. “There’s no reason to be mad at you, you’re just having a hard time today and that’s okay, you’re allowed to have bad days. They happen and you can’t help that sometimes.”

“But-” Connor nudges his face further into his knees. “But you got mad. You say there’s no reason to be mad but you got mad.”

Yeah, Hank knew this would come up. Why wouldn’t it? He fucked up. “I know. I know I snapped at you, and I really shouldn’t have. I was so afraid of you getting hurt, you know? I just got overwhelmed. That doesn’t make it okay though, and I’m sorry.”

“...Don’t be sorry. ‘is my fault.” The android mumbles.

“No it’s not your fucking fault, god please listen to me. I make mistakes, let me apologize. I shouldn’t have gotten upset. Yeah, maybe next time it would be better to let me know before going outside, but I shouldn't have gotten mad over that. We both made mistakes, and that’s okay. We fix them for next time, right?”

To Hank’s disappointment, Connor simply shrugs. “I can’t even control my own actions. I’m not safe for you to be around, what if I hurt you?”

However, he can’t help but laugh at that. Just a little bit. Not enough to bring that pleasant rush of chemicals to his brain, the situation is much too tense.

“Kid, you aren’t gonna hurt me. You’re one of the sweetest kids I’ve ever known. So maybe you’ve got some impulse problems but that’s something we work through. It’s not a reason to abandon you or give up.” Hank attempts to put his whole being into his response, maybe then it’ll reach him. Maybe then it’ll get through.

Connor remains silent though.

Maybe he wants to switch subjects? Should Hank keep talking about this? What is he supposed to do now?? Would it be better to give him a distraction? No no, this needs to be talked about or this will just happen again in a few hours.

“Kiddo, look at me please,” Hank pleads, despising the tone of his voice. It’s pathetic, not the one of a grown man. Connor tilts his head towards him and peeks his eyes over from his arm. “Did something happen to make you do that?”

Hesitantly, Connor nods. “Can you tell me about it?” This time though he shakes his head no.

“Why not?”

The android begins to fidget with his T-shirt hem, twirling it around his fingers and then letting it fall loose.

“...Because- because I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t.” The words sound like pure venom spewing from Connor’s mouth, oozing off of his tongue and tainting the air. Why does he think that? Of course he should talk, of course he should.

But then again, there Hank goes with being a hypocrite once again.

“No that’s just not true. I’m here to listen, I _want_ to listen. I want to _help.”_

What will it take to get that into Connor’s head? How long? How many times will Hank have to reassure him and have this talk over and over again?

Certainly it will be worth it in the end, right?

Yes, it will. That shouldn’t even be a question in Hank’s brain.

“But it makes me feel, I don’t know,” Connor sighs in frustration. “It makes me feel.. Gross? Bad? I don’t know. There’s no good word for it.”

“I understand,” And understand Hank does. He has had that feeling before, the feeling of dread before telling someone something extremely personal and private. Something he might be judged for, something that shaped him as a person. “But I’d really like to know Connor. I want to know so I can help. Can you tell me what happened please?”

Recollection and confliction flashes in Connor’s glossy brown eyes. Of course, it must be hard to trust Hank completely yet, and although it hurts a little, he understands. This kid’s whole life has been neglect after neglect and abuse and torture and betrayal. The lieutenant cannot imagine how difficult the world must appear to Connor, how frightening it is. Everything, everyone, it’s all a threat. Always on high alert and never relaxing.

Now Hank is beginning to grasp as to why Connor loves comfort so much. Can’t blame him, he would be the same way probably.

The LED flashes a vibrant and merciless red for merely a second before returning to yellow. Another look of recollection passes over the android’s face and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly again, reaching his hands up to his ears to cover them from some unheard noise.

“Hey hey hey, I’m sorry we don’t have to talk about this.” Hank tries to gently remove Connor’s hands but he lashes out violently, smacking Hank’s hand away forcefully. Terror embodies itself in the child’s neatly knit eyebrows and his mouth that is contorted into a frown, wheezing for air. The man rapidly draws his hand back to himself, wide-eyed and concerned.

Connor’s own eyes grow large and the fear planted so deep on his face turns to shock. Shock at his own actions, Hank assumes. The android continues to gasp for air as he manages to speak an apology.

“I’m- I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean it I really didn’t I’m sorry please don’t hurt me I’m sorry really I-”

“Connor, look, it’s me. Hank,” The lieutenant processes what just happened. The kid thought he was someone else, someone who hurt him presumably. He has to ground him, help the android know he’s safe. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to listen to what you have to say, I want to help. Can you try and tell me who you thought I was?”

More fidgeting.

“Delarosa it was Delarosa,” Connor coughs out, shrinking into himself. “ _Doctor_ Delarosa.” For whatever odd reason, the clarification of their title seems very important to Connor.

Shit. Well, there’s the name. Hank could go to that tower that looks like a huge dick and find this specific dick inside and beat the shit out of them. That isn’t advisable right now though, he needs to stay here and help Connor.

“Uh, can you tell me what this, Doctor Delarosa? Did to you?” The android shudders at the mention of their name and frantically shakes his head no. “Okay okay, you don’t have to. Do you want, uh, a hug or something? I’m sorry I d-”

Hank is cut off by a small lump burrowing into his chest, curling against his shoulder and clinging to his left arm. He didn’t expect such a sudden reaction, but he still combs his fingers through the child’s hair in an attempt to soothe him. Apparently, that invitation was all Conor needed. There are no tears to be seen, his eyes aren’t even watering. This is terrible, all Hank can do is observe the circling red LED of his and try his best to calm him. There’s no surefire way to end this.

“Connor, listen to me, you’re safe, you’re safe I promise. This Doctor won’t hurt you anymore, those people from the park won't either. I won’t let them, it’s okay, you’re safe.” Hank rambles without a real aim, but he simply needs to state these things. Maybe it’s just for himself, but at least they’re being said. Maybe they’ll help, maybe they’ll do something.

“But she- she- I don’t _feel_ safe!” Connor cries, his voice ripping into Hank’s heart.

That’s the one thing Hank can’t change- how Connor feels. Only Connor can change that. Hank can influence his emotions, both positively and negatively, but he can never make him feel a certain way. He can’t _make_ Connor _feel_ safe. He can keep him safe all he wants but that won’t change what’s going on in that kid’s head. That will forever and always be out of his control. That’s what hurts the most.

“I know, I know.” And that’s all he can say in the end. All he can do is simply acknowledge Connor’s words and help him feel validated, help him feel safe. But no matter what, he can’t force positive emotions on the android, he can only help. This is terrible, _terrible._

“I just wanted the rain! I just wanted it, I just wanted to feel it, I wanted to wake up and feel alive I wanted to feel better! I didn’t want to do anything better, I just wanted the rain that’s it that’s it!” It’s almost as if Connor feels he needs to prove himself, that’s what Hank sees anyways. The man just rubs Connor’s shoulder, thumb going in circles. There isn’t anything more he can say.

“I didn’t mean to tell her, I didn’t mean to make you or her or anyone mad I really didn’t!”

Now Hank has to interject.

“Connor, I know you didn’t. It’s not your fault, and I’m still not mad. I was never really ‘mad’, I was just worried and I expressed it wrong. I haven’t been mad at you at all. There’s no reason to be.” Hank reassures, staring out the window. Rain clings to the glass panes like a life source, trickling downwards. His yard is probably a huge mud pit right about now, but that’s alright. Maybe when Connor feels better they can dirty up some clothes and play around in it.

But that has to wait for now, Connor doesn’t seem in the mood even if he were to suggest it.

This Doctor Delarosa, (a female, Hank assumes from Connor’s babbling) was someone who hurt Connor extremely badly. What could she have done? Hank grows disgusted at the possibilities and swallows his wave of nausea.

“Hank? Why are you so nice to me?” The question appears out of nowhere and jolts Hank from his thinking.

Why? Connor is asking why?

“I’ve said this to you before but I’ll repeat myself however many times you want. Because you deserve it Connor.”

“But I don’t?” It’s a question. This time, Connor isn’t certain.

That’s a start.

“You might not see it, but I do. I see you as a kid who needs love and care and deserves both those things and more. I see a kid who liked dogs and animals and stars and the ocean and cooking. I see a kid who loves fuzzy socks and comfort and soft things,” Hank points at Connor. “That’s you kiddo. You’re that kid, that kid’s name is Connor. You went through hell and came out alive. Now we just have to heal from that.”

Was that alright? Hank worries for a moment that he might’ve said something wrong somewhere, made the kid uncomfortable because of the lack of response. But there is a response. The response might be subtle, but it’s there. It’s Connor tugging Hank’s arm closer and relaxing into it. He’s no longer sitting stiffly.

Better. Not perfect, but better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized this day has gone on for like 5 chapters now oops I swear it’ll be over by next chapter lmao
> 
> Also, like I said before updates will be a bit more random for now. Hope that’s alright! I’m doing my best to write them with as much quality as I can. 
> 
> You guys rock!


	22. Similar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day ends peacefully.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Negative self talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright hello hello! I'll talk more at the end but for now, @freetheandroids on Instagram drew to amazing pieces of fanart and you should check them out! Give them some love :))  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BmMFwPJHSSg/?hl=en  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BmPKww5h-lU/?hl=en&taken-by=freetheandoids

The remainder of the day is almost completely uneventful. The rain continues to drizzle down at a steady and constant pace, splashing against the windows and puddling on the pavement. Hank’s lawn is turning to heaps of mud but he doesn’t mind all that much. However, although thunderstorms are regularly Hanks’s all-time favorite weather, this continuous pattering of rain against the rooftop is not doing much to lift the mood of the house. 

Connor has been mostly silent since his previous breakdown. He feels incredibly guilty, but somehow he has managed to bite his tongue and hold back protests when Hank tells him he’s not bad. It’s hard to hear when he thinks the opposite, when he  _ knows _ the opposite, but Hank won’t change his mind. He is very adamant about this. Connor decides it’s easier to just allow him to think that way, even if it’s untrue. There is no way he is changing the lieutenant’s mind, not right now.

When he does speak something more than a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or ‘okay’. The fear of something he’s not supposed to say accidentally slipping out it’s consuming him. 

Connor is desperately holding back on telling Hank anything more about Doctor Delarosa. Shame already crawls up his spine and along his neck as he recalls the small bits he managed out earlier. He’s not going to say anything else about her, he won’t. Even if that means talking about other things, he will avoid the subject of the Doctor at all costs. 

Yes. No matter what, that is a secret he will hold until the end.

They spend the remainder of the afternoon leading up until dinner just watching some old children’s movies. Hank claims that they are ‘classics’. He seems to have enjoyed them quite a lot. Connor is mostly indifferent to the movies since he wasn’t entirely focused on them, to be honest. How could he be? After what happened?

There was no focusing, although it would be a nice escape. He simply cannot tear his thoughts away from what happened and what he continues to confess and say.

Dinner, too, is peaceful. Hank does most of the talking (as he has been) and Connor takes solace in simply listening and nodding his head. The man eats a frozen pizza that he heated up in the oven. Connor quietly appreciates the lack of cooking tonight. He really really likes cooking, don’t get it wrong, but not tonight.

In fact, it’s because he enjoys cooking that he doesn’t want want to- he doesn’t want to taint such a good thing with bad memories and thoughts. The fear of ruining it is too large. 

So many fears, how stupid.

After dinner, Connor takes to sitting on the couch alone. Hours before, when he had changed back into pajamas, he stared in that bathroom mirror as he sat on the counter and he cried. He cried big, ugly, wet tears that burned his face for much too long after the fact. How could he assume that Hank would do such a thing? Abandon him? 

What’s much more likely is Connor abandoning Hank, running off on his own because of his selfish thoughts and the guilt that plagues him every moment he isn’t completely distracted. Of course, he’s got no plan for that. That’s just what is much more likely because the possibility of Hank abandoning him is near to zero. 

_ There’s always a chance though _ , his paranoia whispers.

Hank is too kind, too naive to abandon Connor. He might be intelligent among other subjects, but when it comes to Connor he certainly is not, the android is sure of this. The delusions Hank has about him make his abdomen hurt and ache, a feeling not unfamiliar to him. He wants to peel off his skin, get out of this body and leave these terrible memories. He wants to be what Hank thinks he is.

He so desperately wants to fit those delusions of Hank’s.

But he doesn’t. The mold Connor fits is the one that Delarosa has told him. The one that everyone else has told him. The one that Elizabeth and the other kids and their moms told him. The one that he’s broken, useless, just a  _ machine.  _

It’s true. He is. There’s no denying it. 

No matter, he’s still on this couch alone, staring out the window at the cloudy night sky. No stars tonight, how disappointing. Of course, there won’t be stars, not when it’s raining so hard. It hasn’t let up for hours, pouring down relentlessly and endlessly. It’s beautiful in a way, a perfect description of how Connor feels. Perhaps that’s silly to say, a bit stupid also. But it’s true, if he could conjure the tears again he would break down into chest wracking sobs, unable to breathe properly or think clearly. He would do almost anything to get that release again. 

When he had his meltdown earlier, and he just allowed himself to cry in the rain, that was so relieving. It felt as if Connor could suddenly breathe again, like things might be okay. 

But no, he’s not going to succumb to those wishes. He’s cried multiple times today, that’s been plenty. There’s no need to cry. No need at all.

Connor needs to sleep. Tomorrow will surely be a better day. 

It’s still early in the night, around 8:00 pm. Connor should sleep, he really should. He knows he will feel better after he gets that mental and physical break, but he can’t bring himself to let his guard down. A feeling of unease looms over his head, lurking and stalking him as if he’s a piece of prey. The threat isn’t here, he’s safe. He’s safe, that’s what Hank continues to repeat. 

Why can’t he feel safe then? 

It’s not fair. 

It’s really not fair. 

The android is so lost in thought that he fails to notice Hank approach him from the side, carrying Connor’s blanket and Fishy. He jumps when the man places a gentle hand on his shoulder and elicits a small, pathetic whimper before realizing it’s only Hank. Hank recoils his hand swiftly as if he was withdrawing from a fire or disgusted by a foul substance. 

How stupid, how pitiful. Afraid of a simple hand. A friendly touch, nothing even remotely bad. 

“Mind if I take a seat?” Connor only shrugs in response, as he’s done for the majority of the afternoon. A jab of remorse hits him right where it hurts, just because he knows how rude he’s being. How selfish and disgusting. He should just speak, why won’t the words come off of his tongue? They’re somewhere, they’re hiding. They need to come back.

Despite Connor’s lukewarm response, Hank still takes a seat a few inches away from the android. He appreciates the respect for his personal space, but he also feels… gross. Pathetic again. Like he’s a fragile piece of glass that already has cracked and Hank is simply trying to prevent further breaks. It’s frustrating and annoying, he doesn’t want to be this sad thing that needs comfort. He wants to be stronger and better, that’s what he’s supposed to do. He’s not supposed to break down like this, not supposed to malfunction. 

“How’re you feeling?” Again, Connor shrugs at Hank’s question. Speaking is really difficult sometimes. It’s like the words are just out of reach, just barely too far away. He can’t get to them so he remains silent. 

“Would you like your blanket? I tossed it in the dryer again.” Hank offers. Oh Hank. He’s so kind, so nice to Connor. Much too kind and nice. Why is that? He’s asked so many times but he still can’t comprehend nor understand the reasoning. It makes no sense to his head, the idea that he deserves kindness. Even so, Connor nods. A blanket sounds nice right now. 

Comfort. 

The blanket is tucked safely around Connor’s shoulders, and the android can tell Hank is ever so cautious to not touch him at all. It still frustrates him that a simple touch could provoke such a horrifying reaction from him, yet what can he do? Nothing, he can’t do anything. Connor is doomed to panic at the slightest unwelcomed touch or action. 

But still, in this current moment, the blanket is welcomed and amazing. He revels in the warmth, the coziness of it as he snuggles his face deeper into it. Fishy is gently plopped on his lap by Hank and Connor stares into those bulging eyes of his and his lips quirk up into a tiny smile, just a fraction of one. Perhaps a bystander wouldn’t even be able to tell that it’s a smile.

Yet he smiles for the first time in what feels like forever, even though it’s only been hours. 

Fishy is still with him. Fishy is here, just as Hank and Sumo are. They like him. They’re nice. Things are okay. 

Things are okay. 

It’ll take more than just that to fully convince the child, but it’s definitely is a start. 

“Y’know, I was thinking about something a while ago.” Hank begins, sighing as he leans back into the couch. His position relaxes and he stares off into the ceiling but Connor can tell he’s not  _ really  _ looking at the ceiling. He’s thinking.

Connor turns to face him, curiosity sparking in his chest briefly. It’s a welcomed change in emotion.

“Look at my wrist,” Hank gently tugs at his sleeve and brandishes the skin hiding beneath. “What do you see?” 

What does he see? Hank’s arm. That’s really all that’s there. It confuses Connor as he tries to wrap his mind around it, even going so far as to take the arm into his own hands and flip it over. He tilts his head to observe it from entirely separate angles. Still nothing. 

“What about these? The faint little lines?” Hank directs Connor’s hand carefully towards a faintly raised spider web of blue lines, just beneath the lieutenant’s skin. 

“They’re.. um… veins? Right?” Connor’s voice cracks awkwardly. That’s what he gets for staying silent for so long. Even now, speaking is a tedious task and he would rather not say anything, but Hank is trying so he should too. 

“You are very correct Connor. What color are they?”

Is this a trick question? “Blue?” The response is small and quiet, tone raising at the end in question. 

“Right you are again. Did you know veins pump the human blood through their bodies?” Connor shrugs and nods. He vaguely recalls something of that nature. “But human blood is red, correct? So why are my veins blue do you think?”

A good question indeed. One that Connor never considered. Why are the veins blue? That doesn’t make any sense now that he thinks about it. Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to be red? As Hank said, human blood is red. Not blue, blue is thirium. Blueblood. Androids. 

“Can’t figure it out?” Connor shakes his head no and Hank smiles, pointing a finger at one of the larger veins. “Although human blood is red, there's a myth that it’s actually blue inside of the body. Because of these blue veins. The myth is that the blood inside the body is deoxygenated, which makes it blue. Although the myth is untrue, it’s nice to imagine we have the same color blood on the inside, right?” 

He’s befuddled. What’s the point in telling Connor this? 

“Even though my blood may be red and yours is blue, from the outside mine looks blue. Perhaps we can imagine we are the same, so long as neither of us bleeds.” Hank suggests, rolling his sleeve back down and carefully taking Connor's hands in his own. “The myth might not be true, but it’s no fun if we live life by the rules all the time. We can believe human blood is blue if we want.”

But it’s not blue. That’s a lie, it’s a lie. There’s no use in pretending. 

“It’s not blue though Hank. It’s only pretend.” Connor’s tone is low, not betraying any of the emotions he secretly feels. 

“It might be pretend, you’re right. But at some point, you’ve gotta learn that pretend is okay. Pretend is good,” Hank appears indignant about that point. “Looking at my veins, it looks like I’ve got blue blood. That’s enough to convince me. So long as I don’t bleed, then I can believe it.” 

That’s fair enough, so the android shrugs. “If you don’t bleed either we can even ignore the fact that our blood is different colors. You look human, I look android. We look like the same species Connor. There’s no denying that.” 

It’s true. If Connor were to be presented with an android with no LED and a human, there would be no telltale signs as to which is the android unless he decides to dig into their skin and see for himself, see them bleed that unnatural blue color. The shade of blue that will forever disgust Connor no matter what. The color beneath his own skin. 

The color he can see peeking through Hank’s arm. Somehow it’s not so bad when he sees it like that though. 

Maybe Hank is right. Maybe it’s okay for him to pretend and have these delusions. He can pretend to be human. Pretending is... okay. It’s not a perfect solution but it’s a temporary one at least.

Maybe Connor needs to try to trust Hank more.

That’s really hard though, especially when he knows that the man is incorrect by all means. Connor wants to fall into those same delusions, he really really does. But how is he supposed to when everything he has ever been told has been the opposite? 

“I’m sorry.” Connor mumbles as he peels his eyes away from Hank to instead curl into himself again. Guilt, shame, guilt and shame. They won’t stop plaguing him every second of every day. It’s torturous, it’s wretched and terrible. 

“No. I don’t want to hear that. Not without a good reason.” The words are firm and Connor knows he cannot argue, at least he wouldn’t succeed in doing so. He still doubts the words in his mind though.

The doubt hurts bad. It hurts because Connor honestly and truly wants to believe Hank.

“Can you sleep out here tonight Hank?” Connor asks lowly. He feels like he’s digging his own grave and burying himself, but surely that would be much more pleasant than this is. He has to ask, he knows he can’t be okay on his own. Things will happen, and not good things either. Connor doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to upset Hank again. “I-I don’t trust myself.” The child admits with a fresh coat of shame layering on top of his voice. This is embarrassing. He should be able to be on his own, at the very least to sleep.

No wonder at Cyberlife they monitored him constantly with cameras.

It pains him to look at Hank’s face as he says this. The raw emotions, they twist and warp his face and Connor wants to rid himself of all of the guilt, it’s just too much. 

“Fuck, of course,” Hank rubs a hand through his hair and then lets it’s slide over to pinch the bridge of his nose. “That- thank you for telling me Connor. That’s so important.” 

There’s only a simple shrug that Connor elicits in response. His cheeks burn, and he feels absolutely gross. But it made Hank, happy? At least. Happy doesn’t seem to be the right word. Maybe grateful is a better one? Yes, that works much better. Hank certainly is not happy right now, neither of them are.

“Really Connor. I need you to hear that, I appreciate that so much,” Hank’s voice loses its usual gruff tone as he speaks genuinely and from the pits of his heart. “I know, god do I know how hard it is to tell someone that. But I’m so thankful you did. Your safety is my priority right now.” 

It shouldn’t be. But Connor has succumbed to the fact that he cannot change Hank’s mind. Not when the android’s head is so cluttered and unorganized. Thoughts are not coherent or clear, nothing would make sense even if he tried.

Tomorrow will be better. Just keep repeating that, it will come true. 

“Is it okay if I give you a hug?” Oh, Connor despises the way Hank has to ask that. With such a careful and gentle tone as if when he says anything out of place then Connor will go have another meltdown, begin to sob or scream or something else horribly embarrassing. It makes him absolutely and utterly disgusted. 

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is fragile. So fragile that he should be locked away in a room in restraints again. He shouldn’t be able to do anything, good or bad. 

Despite his swirling thoughts, Connor bobs his head up and down to signal permission.

The hug isn’t upsetting or desperate, it’s just welcoming and comfortable. So very comfortable. Connor spreads the blanket out along Hank’s lap and curls into the lieutenant’s side. Today has been too much. 

“I’m sorry I freaked out earlier.” 

“Kiddo, I just told you not apologize for stuff like that. You’re allowed to get upset. It happens,” Hank wraps his arm around the child and rests his head back on the couch armrest. “Although I don’t like seeing you like that, I know it happens and I’m not mad at all. It would be stupid of me to get angry at you for feeling emotions and getting sad. You have a right to be upset or mad or sad over what happened, I would be too. Anyone would be.”

Connor is such a burden. 

“Why does it hurt so much to just think? Why do my thoughts have such power over my emotions?” Connor whispers, mostly to himself. His mind is drifting off to a different place, a place where he can just sleep and forget about this terrible day. He can’t bring himself to care what he says right now. “I don’t like it. It’s not fair.” 

Hank says nothing in response, just brushes Connor’s hair away from his forehead and wraps the blanket further around the child’s shoulders. 

“I don’t know. Nothing makes sense, I feel crazy.” It’s true. He does. These memories of his happened. Doctor Delarosa said those things and  _ meant  _ them. For real. So did so many other people from Cyberlife, even people with no association with them. But now Hank shows up out of the blue and tells him all of that is wrong? All that Connor has been conditioned to believe for ages? It would make anyone feel insane, like their mind is incorrect. Or go paranoid and just disregard everything someone says. 

This is so very frustrating to deal with. He doesn’t want to be pitiful and pathetic. He genuinely  _ wants _ to smile and be happy. But that is just out of his reach, he can’t grasp it no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much effort he puts in. Just like the clouds, just like the rain and the stars. He can reach and jump and claw his way towards them all but it’ll never be close enough for him to feel his fingers curl around them in triumph. He will never get that satisfaction of knowing he finally got there and finally succeeded. Connor is doomed to being miserable for the rest of his existence. Not only is he going to be absolutely downright miserable, but he will pull Hank right down there with him and ruin the lieutenant’s life as well. That’s if he hasn’t already ruined it, which is highly doubtful. 

Yeah, it sucks to realize it, but he isn’t doing anything good for Hank. He certainly would be much happier without Connor around. Maybe the android really should just run away and leave. Turn himself back into Cyberlife and allow them to do what they want with him. Let that be shut him down for good or continue experiments, maybe just keep him around for their enjoyment. Whatever it might be, Hank would be better off without his presence around. 

So why is he so insistent on keeping Connor here?

What’s the real use? 

“Hank, what do you really think of me?” The question is asked sleepily, muffled between layers of fabric and hardly understandable. Somehow though, Hank manages to decipher what Connor meant and responds appropriately.

“I think that you’re.. a good kid. One who genuinely wants to do the right thing but it seems like your mind is tricking you as to what that is,” Hank begins, speaking carefully. “You obviously have had some, er, bad things happen. And I know that affects you a lot right now and that’s okay. I think you deserve a lot better than I can give you, but at the same time I’m, uh, very happy you’re here.” 

The words barely register in Connor’s head, his system is so close to stasis. Yet he manages to respond, even if it’s hardly a whisper, instead just a brief sound trickling through the room. A sound like a flitting butterfly.

“I’m- I’m happy I’m here too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here we go! So the reason I haven't updated in like five days is for a few reasons- let me explain. if you don't care, feel free to ignore my ramblings!  
> 1- On Sunday, something happened at the beach which wasn't great for my personal mental health. It was red flag at Lake Michigan and I witnessed some people die. So that affected me, but no worries I'm good now!  
> 2- A few different friend issues have impacted my anxiety levels, which has made it so I'm anxious to respond to comments or write or really do anything lmao (But I promise I will reply ASAP!!)  
> 3- My Mom got ill and I had to take some time and help care for her. She's much better now though
> 
> Those, along with a few other miscellaneous things hindered my writing process. HOWEVER, things are mostly resolved now, so don't concern yourselves! I'm taking care of myself and things should be back to normal soon.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The day is finally over (only after six chapters wtf). We will get into more plot in the next chapter. Also, one last thing- check out @Freetheandroids on Instagram if you haven't already!!

**Author's Note:**

> Have a great day/night :))

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [How To Be Human](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15499551) by [Jackaboxboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackaboxboy/pseuds/Jackaboxboy)




End file.
